Painted Reality
by Basil's Angel of Music
Summary: It's St. Valentine's Day, and all across the world, lovers, young and old, celebrate this holiday of love and passion. All except one. Iona Campbell absolutely dreads this holiday for one reason and one reason alone - she has no one to share it with. However, upon wishing to find love on a star, she soon gets a lot more than she's bargained for. I know, suck at summaries. Basil/OC
1. Chapter 1

_14th February 2012_

My story begins on St. Valentine's Day of the year 2012, that holiday during which all around the world, lovers, young and old, celebrate this day of love and passion with those they hold close to them. I myself have always dreaded this particular holiday for one reason and one reason only – like every other year, I had no one to share what was supposed to be a joyous day for many couples across the globe with. Normally I'm a girl of the cheerful, happy, optimistic type, almost always in a good mood, but during this time of year, that was always very different. I don't think anything ever got me so down as this bloody holiday did. The reason for that being that not once had I had one of the many things my heart truly desired: a man who I could give my heart too. All my life, I had pretty much been a sucker for anything that was romantic, movies, songs, poems, and other stuff. I guess you could say that that started from all the classic Disney movies I loved watching since I was a very small child. And since then, I had always longed for a guy I could share such a beautiful, precious thing with, but even to this day, that wish has never once come true. Not once in all the nineteen years that I have existed did I ever get the chance to experience the joys of love. Even at school, watching other pupils, mostly older than myself, sharing sweet embraces and kisses with their significant other always got me imagining it being me and another person, something that seemed kinda cool to me, and since then, I only wished that I could at least once just have a go at the whole relationship thing myself, and I've even once had my eye on a guy around my own age once, but he didn't reciprocate. You're probably wondering, did I ever have any guys wanting me for their own? Well, surprisingly, and ironically enough, I did. At least three of them, but for reasons I'd rather leave unexplained, I couldn't return their feelings. Weird, huh? But yeah, that's pretty much my love life all over. Or perhaps I should say my non-existent love life. For so long, I have never once had the chance for a love in which the feeling would be mutual, and very likely never would. Hence why St. Valentines Day always left me depressed and heartbroken, because it always reminded me of that fact. What a way to celebrate a holiday, eh?

Anyway, like I said, it was on this night that my very bizarre story begins. I was in the kitchen, nibbling on a slice of chocolate cake from the fridge, doing what I could to cheer myself up on this rather depressing holiday. But even after I had finished, cleaned my plate, dried it and put it away in its proper place, the gloomy thoughts were still going through my head. So the chemicals in the chocolate that I had always known to help lift one's moods, even slightly, didn't work. I just remained feeling as gloomy and depressed as ever. I even had to fight to hold back a flood of tears at that point, but it seemed I couldn't stop one tiny little droplet from sliding down my face. Wiping it away, I decided just to leave the kitchen and head off to my room.

As I passed through the living room, I caught out the side of my eye my dad sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette with a cup of tea on the arm beside him, as he was watching a game of football on the TV. Another Celtic game he had told me would be on that night, so I assumed that that was what he was watching. Of course he would be, as that was the team he always supported since childhood. He got it from my poor late granda. However, my presence must've distracted him from the game as he turned to face me.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked me, obviously noticing my glum expression. I stopped in my tracks and looked at him.

"Oh, n-nothing," I replied, not really looking at him. "Nothing at all."

"Something's wrong," he told me, giving me that suspicious one-eyebrow-up look, the look he always gives me whenever he doesn't believe what I've said to him. Giving up trying to cover my sadness, I let out a deep sigh as my eyes sunk to the floor.

"What's up?" he asked me again.

"It's just..." I began, but sighed again, not managing to find the right words.

"Come here," he said, patting the space on the couch next to him as a gesture for me to sit down there. Knowing that this was a chance for me to vent my emotions out, I automatically obeyed as I went over and slumped back onto said space on the couch next him. You'd think I'd be bothered by the smell of the smoke he was producing from his cigarette, but for as long as I had known my dear old father, he had indeed been a smoker, so I was kinda used to it. Which was kinda weird, considering that every time I smelt it coming from some of the other students at school, it always bothered me a great deal.

"What's the matter?" he asked me at last, not taking his concerned gaze off me.

"It's just..." I repeated. "You know what today is, right?"

There was a short silence before my dad answered, "Tuesday...?"

I glared at him in response for his rather silly answer. "No," I said slightly irritably. "_St. Valentine's Day_ of course!"

"Uh-huh? And?"

I sighed in slight frustration mixed with my sadness. "Well, that's _another_ year now that I've not had a special someone to share it with."

"Och, don't worry about it," he said, shaking head with a sympathetic smile on his face. "You will, one day. You just have to patient."

"I know," I replied. "But it's so hard to be when I'm now almost in my twenties and not once have I had the chance to experience true love, like many others have. I just feels as though I'm missing out on something great, you know?"

"Just give it time, pet," said Dad, patting my shoulder gently. "It will happen when it happens."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"It will. Believe me."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked again, turning to face him.

Taking another puff on his cigarette, Dad answered with a smile, "Because you're a very attractive girl, and you're bound to meet an equally attractive man one day. You'll see. Just stop worrying yourself about it. And besides," he continued. "The way I see it, this holiday is just a waste of time anyway. You don't really need to celebrate it, regardless on whether you're single or not. In fact, it's probably better not to, as it puts people under a lot of pressure to be in a romantic relationship and it makes them very unhappy about not being in one. Now, I don't think that that's very fair to do that to people."

I appreciated the fact that Dad was trying to cheer me up. He was right though, this holiday _was_ pretty much just a waste of time, and it does make people very unhappy about being single. I was pretty much living proof at that moment. But what difference would it make on whether this stupid holiday existed or not? I still wouldn't have found the right man yet, and would probably _never_ find him. The chances were that I would be doomed to remain alone and loveless my whole life. However, not wanting to reveal my pessimism, I managed a little smile as I reached over to hug him.

"Thanks, Dad," I said, my voice almost a whisper.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he replied with a chuckle, returning my hug with one of his own rather tight ones. "I love you very much, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do," I said, pulling away. "And I love you."

Dad chuckled again before touching my cheek. "See, even _without_ a boyfriend, you've still got your family, who all love you very much."

"Mm-hm," I said, nodding. It was true, I did have my family who all loved me with all their hearts, and plenty of friends too, friends who I knew in person and friends who I spoke to online as well, and they all made me very happy indeed. But in the end, underneath all that, I was still missing that special someone who would bring me love and joy of a different kind, and that was what I really wanted. Would that really have been so much to ask?

"Well, I'm off," I said at last, standing up.

"Okay, darling," said Dad.

I went into my room, got my hot water bottle and took it back through to the kitchen. It being the middle of February in Scotland, it tended to be a rather cold night, despite the heating being on, and a hot water bottle always helped me heat up on cold nights such as this. Putting the kettle on, I emptied the now cool contents of the water bottle down the sink. As I waited for the kettle to boil, I began to think of other ways to try and take my mind off this little misfortune of mine.

_Perhaps I should watch a movie tonight_, I thought. _Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do!_

Hearing the kettle finally clicking off, I went over and poured the hot water into the bottle, held it to my stomach to let some of the excess steam out and screwed the seal into it before taking it back through to my room.

"Goodnight, Dad," I said as I passed him.

"Goodnight, baby," he replied as I closed the door into my room behind me, leaving him alone with his football game on the TV once more. Going up to the shelves, I began to scan my favourite DVDs there to pick out a film to watch before going to sleep.

"Let's see, what do we have here?" I asked myself aloud, thoughtfully. "_Titanic_? _Moulin Rouge!_? _The Phantom of the Opera_? Nah. I really love all those films, but I don't think a romantic film is such a good idea just now... _An American Werewolf in London_? _The Mummy_? _Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit_? _The Nightmare Before Christmas_? _The Lion King_? Well, they're not really romantic films, but the main character in those still fall in love, so no! Though I suppose I _could_ watch a Disney movie. That would very likely make me feel better. Trouble is, there aren't many Disney movies that aren't romantic, are there? But wait a minute!"

As I exclaimed that last sentence, my eyes had fallen on one particular DVD. Taking it off the shelf, a huge smile finally crossed my sad face as I looked at the handsome yet smug expression of Basil of Baker Street as he held his magnifying glass in one hand and the other in the pocket of his brown tweed Inverness coat. Behind him was the face of Big Ben amongst a background of a lovely shade of blue, which looked as though it had been painted on. This was the 1999 cover of _The Great Mouse Detective_, Disney's 26th animated classic! Basil of Baker Street was the hero of this film. I had always loved this film, ever since I was a little girl, because it was one of the many Disney films I used to love watching all the time back in my pre-school days. For years, I just treated it just another Disney film that I owned since then, but about a year and a half ago, after watching it again with my family, I developed a particular interest in this one, and over time afterwards, it began to make a home for itself in a big part of my heart. Since then, I had been treating it as more than just a mere Disney film. The reason for that being was that there was something very unique about this one. By that, I mean, like most other Disney films, there are no princesses, no pixies, no magic, nothing like that. Don't get me wrong, I did love all those classic films that contained that kind of stuff, and I always would. But I guess you could say upon that particular viewing I saw that there was something more grown up about it in comparison to most of the other Disney films, despite the fact that it was a film about talking mice, even though the main characters were based on Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John H. Watson and Professor James Moriarty from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's most famous classic novels. Maybe that was why I suddenly found myself so drawn to this one, especially after so many years of merely considering as just another Disney classic. And it was through entering the fandom that I learned so many interesting things about it, met so many good friends online who shared a mutual love for this film also, and I also developed an interest in classic character of Sherlock Holmes too, since that was who Basil was based on.

Still looking at the smug expression on Basil's face, I shrugged as I said with a smile, "Oh well, I guess _you'll_ just have to be my Valentine this year," before taking it over to the DVD player on top of my chest of drawers.

Now, you're probably wondering why I said that to a picture of a cartoon mouse. Yes, after suddenly finding myself immensely interested in this film, I found myself falling in love with the main character Basil over time. Indeed, after having upon just entering the fandom, I learned that quite a lot of female fans also had a crush on him and I myself found it rather strange at first, considering that they were all human of course and that he was a mouse. However, as time went by, as I watched the movie more and paid more attention to Basil's good looks, his sense of humour, that rather nice, deep voice of his with the posh British accent, his gentlemanly charm, I began to understand why they would feel that way about him and found myself becoming rather attracted to him myself. At first, I was annoyed at myself for doing so, for after another fictional character I had had a monster crush on for six years, who I moved on from a few years ago, I had promised myself never to fall for another fictional character. However, that promise was broken when I entered the _Great Mouse Detective_ fandom. But after a while, from talking with the online friends I had met through said fandom, I realised that so long as it just remained as a bit of harmless fun and I didn't let it affect my life too much, it would be okay.

Anyway, as I making my way to my DVD player to set it up, something out of the corner of my eye suddenly caught my attention. Looking out of my bedroom window, I noticed that of all the millions of tiny stars dotted all over the pitch black sky above, there was one that was at least three times larger than the rest of and five times brighter, shining like a radiant diamond. Without knowing what possessed me to do so, I closed my eyes and concentrated.

_I wish to find love_, I found myself thinking. _I wish to find someone who I love, someone who will love me back. Someone who will be kind, understanding and protective of me. Someone who will be there for me whenever I need them, someone who will make me happy, even through my darkest of times._

Opening my eyes, I chuckled to myself as I began to mentally kick myself for such a childish act.

"Can't believe I just did that!" I said quietly, having learned as I grew up that it would take more than just looking at a random star that just happened to be brighter than the rest and making a wish on it to make it come true. Well, at least that's what I thought at the time anyway. Choosing to think no more of it, I put the DVD into the machine and settled down into bed. Skipping past all the sneak peaks for other Disney movies, I waited until the menu screen came up. When I was met with the moving image of Basil holding his magnifying glass in one hand with an adorable, excited look on his face with Big Ben in the background, the cheerful theme tune playing in the background, I immediately pressed the Play button on my remote, hoping that watching this would take my mind off my loneliness, despite my aforementioned crush on the cartoon mouse I had just seen on the screen.

However, just as the familiar "London, 1897" caption appeared on the screen, I found myself feeling slightly tired. At first I thought nothing of it and chose to just concentrate on the film. Though try as I may, even during the rather disturbing scene of Fidget breaking into the toy shop and kidnapping Hiram Flaversham, with his eight-year-old daughter Olivia watching, a look of horror on her sweet face, I found that my eyelids got heavier and heavier and I just could not seem to keep them open. I fought to stay awake however and kept all my attention on the film playing in front of me, until it came to the scene in which Dr. David Q. Dawson takes the poor, lost, frightened child to 221B Baker Street, in hopes that the famous mouse detective who lived there would help her find her missing father. Then at last, I lost the battle to stay awake, but managed to do so long enough to hear said detective chirp, "Basil of Baker Street, my good fellow!", introducing himself after removing his bizarre disguise. I smiled at the sound of his voice before at last, my consciousness just left me.


	2. Chapter 2

As I came to, I felt, to my surprise that I was no longer lying in my own warm bed, but on what felt like wet concrete and I felt a cold breeze surrounding me. This caused me to completely waken up a lot faster than I usually would. As I opened my eyes, my vision was still a little blurry, but after I sat up straight and rubbed them, trying to get the last of the sleep out, I then them again and my vision quickly adjusted itself.

"What the...!?" I exclaimed, a tidal wave of confusion crashing over me as I took a minute to look at my new surroundings. Just as I had first suspected, I was indeed no longer in my own bedroom, but what looked like a dark alleyway, filled wooden crates, broken pieces of furniture, empty barrels and all other kinds of rubbish. What was even weirder was that everything around me looked so huge.

_I_ could _be wrong, but, Toto, I don't think we're in Glasgow anymore_, I thought to myself, trying vainly to work out if everything that was happening to me at that moment was just part of some weird dream I was having. I stood up, walked further out towards the middle of the alley and took a look around.

"Anybody there?" I shouted, but the only answer I received was my own voice echoing back to me, presumably bouncing off the walls of the huge buildings in front of and behind me. "Dad! Mum! Kirsten!" Still no answer. "Heeeeeeeyyyyyyy!" I called out at the top of my lungs, cupping my hands over my mouth as I did so, and again, the only reply I got was my voice, echoing throughout the entire alleyway.

"This is weird..." I whispered to myself as I began walking up to the end of the alley which faced the street outside. It was so quiet and it made me feel all the more uncomfortable at being alone in this unfamiliar place. The only sounds I heard as I walked were my echoing footsteps, with the occasional light splashing as I stepped through a few shallow puddles. I was surprised, as I briefly looked down at one point, to see that I was now wearing my pink sneakers, but then decided to think no more of it, as that was really the least of my worries at that moment.

"Jesus, it's cold..." I breathed again, running my hands up and down my arms as I shivered at the cold air around me.

Eventually, I reached the end of the alley and looked up ahead of me. My confusion grew further as I saw people much bigger than myself all walking back and forth along the streets in front of me. What made it even more surprising was that they were all dressed in what looked like Victorian style clothing; the men wore long black tweed coats with top hats and some of them held a walking stick in one hand which clicked against the concrete in time with their steps. As for the women, they all wore quite nice but casual looking dresses of all different colours, all with bonnets tied to their heads and woollen shawls over the shoulders to protect them from the cold. I saw a couple of hansom cabs passing along the road, the clopping of the hooves of the horses that drew them against the cobbles echoing through the air. Lastly, quite far off from where I was, there was a small boy, about ten or eleven years of age, dressed in dark brown trousers, a white shirt which looked too big for him, worn black shoes and a tweed brown cap. He was holding a large bundle of newspapers in one hand and one separate copy in the other and he was standing amongst the bustling crowd, shouting the headlines of the latest news at the top of his lungs, attracting a few adults over to buy their own copies from him.

It was then that it dawned on me that I really _wasn't_ in Glasgow anymore, and certainly not in the 21st century either. Instead, I was back in a Victorian times, and going by the posh British accents of some of the finely dressed people or the cockney accent of the newsboy, that I was in London.

"How the hell...?" I asked myself quietly, wondering how I could've ended up here. However, I didn't have very much time to think about it as I instantly heard a sort of splashing sound behind me, like something big landing in one of the deeper puddles much further down the alleyway. Now growing wary, I stood still for a few seconds before I dared look behind me. My heart almost skipped a beat when I saw, much further down the alley, a huge alley cat with grey and white fur prowling in my direction. After several small steps, the cat start bounding towards me. I immediately screamed and dashed off, running as fast as I could, with the monster behind me at my heels.

Now, I don't think that I had ever run so fast in my entire life! It must've been the adrenaline rushing through my body from the knowledge of my current situation. As small as I was compared to the cat and the humans on the street, I was very surprised at seeing myself shooting along the pavement like a woman possessed, carefully and quickly dodging being crushed to death under the feet of the giants above me. I was even more surprised at seeing that they didn't notice me, this tiny little woman practically the size of a mouse darting through under them like a bullet that had just been fired out of a gun. However, my feline pursuer didn't have as much luck. I heard cries and exclamations of surprise coming from the people behind me, as the cat must've unexpectedly zoomed past them or under their feet.

_Come on, Iona!_ I screamed in my head, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest as I ran. _Wake up! This is just a bad dream! It'll be over soon. Just wake up, God dammit!_

In a matter of seconds I had reached the end of the street and turned to dash across the road, again managing to avoid being trampled on by one of the horses pulling a hansom cab. Still the monster followed and behind me I heard the sound of surprised neighing from the horses, for the cat must've just dashed out in front of them also, taking the poor animals by surprise and stopping them in their tracks.

"Oy, watch where you're going, you stupid cat!" I heard the cabby shout, the annoyance could clearly be heard in his voice.

But the cat took no notice of the abuse it was given by the cabby. Right now, its main concern was its prey; me, and it was determined not to let me escape. Reaching the other side of the road I quickly climbed up onto the pavement and instantly continued running for my life, barely dodging the monster's razor sharp claws as it attempted to catch me. After running a few metres of this new street, I turned into some bushes that surrounded the buildings there and began running through it all, hoping that my enemy would eventually lose sight of me. Unfortunately, the monster's sense of smell was just too good, as it continued to pursue me further, even if it was still outside the bushes.

It wasn't long until I came across a huge hole in the wall up ahead. Upon reaching it, I dove towards said hole and slid inside along the mud, not even caring if my clothes got dirty as I heard my enemy finally making its way through the bushes after me. When I stopped, I immediately scrambled to my feet and ran up to the back of my shelter and stood there facing outwards, pressing my back against the wall as hard as I could as I watched as the cat's large paw that had followed me inside rummaging and fumbling to find me, scratching its claws through the dirt. My blood seemed to curdle in my veins as I listened to its malevolent yamming outside.

For a few seconds, I regretted coming into this hole, thinking that I was now trapped and it would only be a matter of time now before my enemy would catch onto my clothes with its claws and drag me out, and I would serve as this its breakfast. But that was before noticing out the corner of my eye, a small, rusty iron nail. For a split, I wondered how on earth it could've gotten there, but I thought no more of it as I reached down, picked it up and stabbed it into the back of the cat's huge paw like a dagger. The monster let out a loud, shrill shriek of pain as it jerked its paw back out of my shelter. My weapon having still been in its paw, it dragged through its flesh until said paw was gone completely, drawing a little bit of blood in the process. I immediately began tiptoeing up to the entrance of my shelter, peaked around the corner and took some time to get a good look at my enemy. Its fur was all matted and incredibly filthy, giving the white parts of its fur a sort of creamy colour, indicating that it had been living on the streets for quite some time. I managed to keep myself hidden from it however as I watched it licking frantically at the wound in its paw where I had stabbed it. Eventually, having forgotten all about me, it started limping away, letting out little groans of pain with every step it made as it seemed barely able to keep its injured paw on the ground. At first, I felt a little bad for having done that to the poor animal, but then I remembered that I was only defending myself as that thing was gonna try and eat me after all.

Once my enemy had completely vanished out of site, I gingerly got out of the hole and breathed a deep sigh of relief, shaking all over from shock and exhaust. I did _not_ enjoy that game of cat and mouse one bit! However, as I stepped towards the bushes in front of me and began to look at the city outside once more, I began to wonder again what was happening to me. How did I end up back in Victorian London? Why was everything and everyone around me so huge? Was I dreaming all of this?

"Goodness gracious! Are you all right, dearie?" cried a voice behind me, making me almost jump out of my skin as I turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine, thank... you..." As I answered, my eyes widened as I was met with a very surprising site. Standing in front of me was an elderly spectacled woman of a rather large build wearing a blue dress with a white apron, an aqua cap and a navy blue shawl over her shoulders to top it off. She reminded me a lot like Mrs. Judson, Basil of Baker Street's landlady from _The Great Mouse Detective_. And that's when it hit me. Even more surprising about her was the fact that she seemed to be covered with light brown fur, her ears were large and rounded and a long, thin tail trailed behind her from underneath her dress. Could this woman be... a mouse!? Just then, another thing came to me. Looking behind me, I was shocked to find that I too had a long tail sticking out of the back of my black sports joggers. No! Was I...? Then, looking out towards the street in front of me, I noticed a large puddle on the pavement not far from where we were. I immediately rushed over to it, knelt down beside and looked down. I gasped when I saw my reflection. Running my hands over my face and my ears, I found to my surprise that my ears was now larger and rounder, the back of them, much like my face, covered in fur. That could only have meant one thing, that I was no longer a human, but a mouse!

_Okay, now I_ know _I'm dreaming!_ I thought to myself, feeling that everything that was happening to me couldn't possibly be real.

"A-are you all right, dear?" asked the old lady again behind me, causing yet_another_ bizarre thought to enter my mind.

Turning to face her, I felt compelled to ask, "Who... who are you? What's your name?"

The concerned look on the elderly lady's face changed to a confused one as she answered, "Um... you may call me... Mrs. Judson."

So it was true, I had somehow been transported into the universe of my favourite Disney movie, _The Great Mouse Detective_. But how? How could this have happened? One cannot really end up in the universe of one of their favourite movies, could they?

The entire notion of it all started to make me feel really sick and light-headed until everything around me turned black. As my consciousness came back to me, I felt myself back in amongst some warm, soft covers and for a couple of seconds I thought that I was back in my own room in my home in Scotland during the 21st century. However, when I opened my eyes, I saw to my surprise, that the bedroom I was now in was _not_ mine. Sitting up, I took a look around the room and saw that I was surrounded with Victorian décor. The bed I was lying in, the cupboard across the room from me, the chest of drawers, even the wallpaper definitely did _not_ have a modern feel to it.

"Oh, Christ, I _wasn't_ dreaming..." I sighed, putting my hand to my head.

Then, as I opened my eyes, I saw that I was no longer wearing my Evanescence t-shirt. Whipping the silk blankets off myself, I saw that neither was I in my joggers or my sneakers. Instead I was in a white satin night dress.

"How...?" I asked myself, wondering how my clothes could've changed whilst I was unconscious. Then again, how could I have ended up in this cosy bedroom whilst too whilst being out unconscious?

At that moment, as if answering the questions swirling around in my head, the door to my right began to open. I quickly whipped the covers back over myself just before the person behind the door came into view. Who should come in, carrying a tray with what looked like a bowl of steaming hot porridge and a mug of tea, was none other than the old lady who I had met earlier, Mrs. Judson.

"Oh, good! You're awake!" she smiled when she looked at me, coming towards me with the tray. "How are you feeling?"

"Er... fine, I guess..." I answered, rubbing the back of my head. "What happened?"

"Oh, you merely fainted, my dear," she replied, placing the tray in front of me, before pulling up a chair and taking a seat beside the bed. "And I couldn't just leave you out in the streets all by yourself, especially after having just witnessing you fainting, so I brought you back to my home, which luckily for you was just around the corner."

For a couple of seconds I just looked at the food in front of me. I was never really a huge fan of porridge, but this kind lady had clearly made the effort to make this for me whilst I was still out cold, and I figured it would be impolite to tell her that I didn't like it, so I just picked up the spoon and picked up a spoonful of it.

"So, um, where am I, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked her before blowing at porridge in my spoon to try and cool it down a little.

"Why, you're at 221B, Baker Street," she answered, smiling. "Well, actually you're _underneath_ it, really."

I was bringing the spoonful to my mouth when Mrs. Judson had told me of my exact whereabouts. It was at that moment that said spoonful spilled back into the bowl as I jumped slightly, quickly turning my gaze back to her.

"221B, Baker Street? You mean - ?"

"Yes," she replied, the proud smile never leaving her face. "Above our heads is the home of Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective in all the world! Well, the greatest _human_ detective anyway."

I gasped. "So then, this is also the home of -?"

"Yes! The famous Basil of Baker Street, London's greatest mouse detective, is my tenant."

Just then, my heart leapt with joy and excitement. Was it true? Was I really in the home of Basil of Baker Street, my favourite cartoon character?

"You're not from here, are you, Miss... um -?" she began to ask me, but trailed off as she remembered she still didn't know my name.

"Hm? Oh, I'm Iona," I answered, blushing lightly at having forgotten to introduce myself earlier. "Iona Campbell."

"Ah, right, Miss Campbell," she acknowledged, nodding. "You wouldn't be from Scotland by any chance, would you?"

"Uh, yes, I am," I said, smiling. "Glasgow to be exact."

"I thought as much," she said, having obviously listened to my accent. Then I feared that she may have thought the same from the clothes that I was wearing before, which would undoubtedly have looked strange to her.

However, I was reassured that she chose not to bring the subject of said clothes up when she asked me, "But what made you decide to come here?"

"Um... well... I'm not sure to be honest," I began, remembering the strange chain of events that I'd experienced from the minute I woke up in that dark alleyway. "I remember falling asleep in my room in my home, in Scotland of course, and the next thing I know, I wake up here in London."

"That's very strange," replied Mrs. Judson, putting her hand to her chin thoughtfully. I breathed a silent sigh of relief at having been able to avoid revealing the fact that I was also from the 21st century without causing too much suspicion. "Perhaps my tenant, Mr. Basil can help you with that. He and Dr. Dawson are out on a case at the moment, but I shall bring you and your mysterious situation to their attention when they get home."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, the excitement returning to me at the news that I'd soon be meeting the Great Mouse Detective himself. "What are they investigating right now, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked her, suddenly very interested in knowing what said mouse detective was investigating.

"Oh, a young lady by name of Miss Rosemary Harrison owns a library in Oxford Street," she began to explain. "But her library was broken into about a week ago and several books were stolen."

"My God!" I cried, putting my hand to my mouth. "Did she see the thieves?"

"No, I'm afraid not," she answered, shaking her head sadly. "She immediately went to Mouseland Yard to try and find the brute who did it, but as usual, they were completely out of their depths so they sent to seek the advice of Mr. Basil. She came here a couple of nights ago and told him the whole story. Mr. Basil was most interested in taking the case, which made her very happy."

"So, how did they get in and what were the names of the books that were stolen?"

"She didn't say what their titles were exactly, but they were books on the subject witchcraft. And this is the strange part; she didn't know how the thieves got in."

"So, then, how did she know that some of her books were stolen?" I asked, confused.

"Well, she is a renowned book lover, and since opening her library, she has always been very nervous about such a thing happening to her business, so she counts all the books every morning before opening and every night during closing time. However, seven mornings ago, upon doing her usual counting of the books, she found that several of them were missing. Now, she did not remember seeing anyone renting those books at all throughout the previous day and she said they were definitely all there when she counted them that very same night. She also took the opportunity to inspect her entire house, but they were nowhere to be seen. She then asked her brother who lives with her, whom she also trusts with her very life, about it and he swore to her that he did not sneak down in the middle of night while she was asleep to take them from the library. Besides, her brother, apparently is a sceptic, and therefore does not believe in witchcraft and other such supernatural things, so why would he suddenly be interested in studying it unless for the sole purpose of research, he had asked her?"

"Gosh..." I breathed, amazed by Mrs. Judson's narrative which she previously heard from her tenant's client. "Whoever broke into the library must've been very clever."

"Indeed," she replied, nodding her head. "Anyway, Miss Campbell," she continued, standing up. "You'd best eat up that porridge of yours. I suspect Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson will be home quite soon, and we can't have you presented to them in nothing but that little night dress."

Remembering the breakfast she had made for me, I quickly began to eat it up as Mrs. Judson quickly left the room, presumably to try and find a dress for me to wear. I was very surprised to find that she had put a little bit of honey in it, making it actually rather delicious. When I had finished, I put my the tray on the little chest of drawers next to my bed and stood up as the kind landlady finally returned with a dress for me. It was a blue bustle dress with white floral patterns all over it, and the sleeves were of a three-quarter length with white ruffles at the cuffs.

"It actually belongs to me," she told me as she put it down onto the bed. "But I only wore it the once when I was around your age, but I didn't think it really suited me. However, I think it may suit you a lot better. Do forgive me for giving you such on old dress to wear just now, but I do promise that I shall take you to a tailor to have some other dresses made for you while you're here, before Mr. Basil can help you find your way back home."

"No, no, it's fine," I said, shaking my head. I was actually looking forward to wearing this dress, as it reminded me a lot like the dress Christine Daaé wore at one point during the original stage production of my favourite musical, Andrew Lloyd Webber's _The Phantom of the Opera_.

So with that, she began to help me into my new clothes. The worst part was when she was helping me into the corset I was to wear underneath. With each string she yanked tightly behind me, my gasps for breath got louder as I felt myself getting more and more out of breath.

"It's pretty painful, I know," she told me, obviously having heard said gasps. "But you'll be pleased to know that it is slowly going out of fashion these days."

"That's – ah! – good to know." I managed to get out as the final lace was done.

_God, and here I thought that being able to breathe was supposed to be our _first _priority..._

"Now then, let's get you into this dress, shall we?" she said, picking up said dress. Thankfully being helped into that was nowhere near as painful the corset, since all the really needed was to be buttoned up at the back.

"Yes, I would say it _does_ suit you a lot better than it did me," she chirped, earning a little bashful smile from myself as we both looked over my reflection in the mirror. "Now then, let us go downstairs, shall we? I'm sure Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson will be delighted to meet you when they get home."

As we both left the room, walked through the hall and began to ascend the stairs down to the living room, I began to grow more and more excited as the notion was slowly sinking in that I was soon to meet Basil of Baker Street and Dr. David Q. Dawson, the Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson of the mouse world!


	3. Chapter 3

As Mrs. Judson and I entered the living room, my eyes widened a little as I saw that I was now standing in a room I recognised all too well. On my left, was a big red chair facing a green chair of the same size across from it. Between them was a fireplace with a few books, a carriage clock and a small gas lamp on top of the mantelpiece. To top it all off, there were what looked like little newspaper clippings nailed to the sides of the fireplace. On my right, was a worn and stained chemical table cluttered with various beakers and test tubes bubbling with all sorts of strangely coloured liquids. Next to it was a large dart board with several darts stuck in various parts of it and a basket containing maps from all over the world. A few inches ahead of me was a large bronze suit of armour holding a shield with the letter "B" on it, standing guard next to a small staircase which led to a small foyer. This was indeed the living room of the home of Basil of Baker Street! I found it so hard to believe that this was were I was standing at that moment that I suddenly felt a little out of breath.

"I swear, that mouse _never_ tidies up after himself!" Mrs. Judson muttered to herself in frustration, snapping me out of my awed trance as she went over to pick up the many opened books and sheets of paper scattered all over the floor. I took another look around and it finally hit me that the room was indeed a complete mess. Many of the books on the bookcase behind aforementioned red chair were arranged in the most untidy manner I had ever seen. Looking back at the chemical table, I noticed a few broken beakers in front of it, their shards scattered all underneath it and the contents spilled all around it.

"Do you want me to help?" I asked her at last, thinking it would be a shame to leave the poor landlady to tidy up all the mess by herself.

"Hm?" she responded, turning back to me. "Oh no, don't be silly! You're a guest here."

"I know," I answered. "But after the way you took me in after I fainted, which I'm very grateful for by the way, it's the least I could do."

"Oh well, suit yourself," she said, seeing that I was insistent upon helping her. "But keep away from those spilled chemicals over there. Let me deal with those. Mr. Basil has conducted that many experiments since he's lived under these floorboards that I am now able to recognise which is which and how to deal with it."

"Thank you," I said before the two of us made a start on tidying up the living room. It didn't take that long, actually. I picked up the books and rearranged them all on the bookcase and got the various equipment Mrs. Judson needed for her to clean up the mess left under the chemical table. Once that was done, we together picked up all the sheets of paper and stacked them neatly on the coffee table behind the red chair and in front of the couch against the wall, next to the bookcase. I had to hold back a little giggle when the kind landlady told me she had to remember not to throw _anything_ of Basil's away, as he had scolded her for doing so in the past, as they would very likely be needed for any of his cases.

"There, that's better," Mrs. Judson said proudly, looking over the now tidy living room. "Now, I suspect that Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson will be home shortly, and in weather like this, I'm sure they'll appreciate nothing more than a nice hot cup of tea and some of my fresh cheese crumpets." Turning to me, she added. "Thank you for your help, my dear, but I really must insist that you make yourself at home now. Why don't you busy yourself with one of those books over there until my two tenants return home?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Judson," I repeated politely before doing as I was told and going over to the bookcase whilst she went away into the kitchen. Without thinking much of it, I started humming one of my favourite songs to myself as I scanned all the titles of the books, hoping to find one that would interest me. Clearly, without being at all aware of it, I was humming quite loudly, for it wasn't long before I heard Mrs. Judson's voice say behind me, "I must say, that's a rather beautiful voice you have, my dear."

Feeling slightly embarrassed but rather flattered as well, I turned to face the kind landlady, who was smiling at me as she held a tray with a teapot, a few cups and a plate full of what I could only assume were her cheese crumpets that she had mentioned earlier.

"Oh, thank you," I replied with a smile of my own, feeling a light blush coming on around my cheeks. The elderly chuckled adoringly before making her way towards the coffee table.

"So, do you like singing then?" she asked me, pouring some tea into a cup she had placed on the table for me.

"Yes, I love it," I beamed, taking a book I had finally found that interested me from the bookcase and sitting down on the couch with it. "It's a passion of mine actually."

"Ah," she said, nodding her head in acknowledgement as she put a couple of cheese crumpets onto a little plate before placing it in front of me. "Have you ever thought of taking some sort of singing career at all?"

"Well, yes," I answered, opening the book in front of me. "It was once a big dream of mine to be a professional singer, but," I trailed off as a pang of sadness began to fill my heart at that point. "But I've sort of... given up on it now."

"Oh, deary me!" Mrs. Judson exclaimed sympathetically, looking up from pouring some tea, presumably for Basil as she was filling a cup she has placed on the little table next to his red chair. "Why is that?"

"Well, the music teacher I had at school wasn't very good," I began to explain. "And although I tried very hard, I didn't do that well in my exams, which I blame his poor teaching skills for. So by the time I left school, my confidence had dropped completely because I wasn't sure if there were any places I could go to in Glasgow for further training that would still take me, whether or not I had the required grades needed to get there."

"What a pity," muttered the landlady who had gone over to Dr. Dawson's own green chair, shaking her head sadly as she poured tea in the cup she had placed on the table next to that one next. "And I'll bet you would've made a fine singer too."

"Hm," I merely shrugged off. "Well, I suppose it's not possible for every wish to come true," I answered, sinking my head in sadness again as I thought of a certain other wish of mine which had not yet come true, and which I was still doubting ever would.

"No, I suppose not," Mrs. Judson agreed sadly, taking the now empty tray back into the kitchen. After she had passed me, I decided to think no more of my crushed dreams as I went ahead and started to read the book in my hands. It was Dr. Dawson's account on what he referred to as "the Flaversham case". He had merely called it _The Great Mouse Detective_, which rather made sense to me actually, considering that that was the very title of the film as well as the fact that it was the case in which the doctor met the famous detective for the first time. Needless to say, that was the reason that that very book gained my interest immediately because I was curious to see how the good doctor would've worded the events I had seen in the film.

I was not long into the book however, when I finally heard two very familiar male voices from outside. Looking up, I saw two silhouettes which I instantly recognised pass the window in the small foyer.

"Oh, good gracious!" cried Mrs. Judson, coming out of the kitchen and quickly making her way towards the front door. "That will be them now!"

The landlady had barely uttered that sentence as she reached the door and opened it, instantly letting in two mice whom I knew very well indeed. The taller of the two was wearing a brown tweed Inverness coat with a matching deerstalker hat upon his head. His fur was of a light brown colour, except for that which covered his throat and the area of his his around his mouth, which was more sort of tan coloured. This mouse was none other than Basil of Baker Street himself, the mouse world's very own Sherlock Holmes! His shorter, somewhat chubbier companion wore a lilac coat with a matching cap. His fur was of the same tan colour as Mrs. Judson's and my own, and he was clearly much older than Basil, indicated only by his light coloured moustache. This was Dr. David Q. Dawson, Basil's best friend and biographer, and therefore the Dr. John H. Watson to Basil's Holmes.

After helping these two gentlemice out of their coats, Mrs. Judson motioned towards me as I stood up, saying, "Mr. Basil, Dr. Dawson, this is Miss Iona Campbell. The poor girl was lost and alone," she added as me and said mice made our way up towards each other. "So I took her in for a little food and warmth."

"Ah, very pleased to meet you, Miss Campbell," smiled Dr. Dawson, holding his hand out for me. "Dr. David Q. Dawson, at your service."

"It's a pleasure, doctor," I smiled back, taking his hand and shaking it with him. "I've read many of your accounts on your adventures with Mr. Basil of Baker Street. I really am a great admirer of the both of you."

The doctor blushed lightly as he chuckled, clearly very flattered with my compliment. At that moment, I glanced up at Basil, who just looked at me with a less than friendly gaze.

"Charmed, I'm sure," he said in a slightly cold manner before immediately walking past me towards his red chair. I was of course a little hurt by the detective's rudeness, but then remembered that this was probably typical behaviour of him towards strangers, so I decided to just mentally shrug it off.

Glancing then at Mrs. Judson, I could see that she was looking at him with a rather irritated expression, but she clearly chose to hide it at that moment, for she merely went on to tell the two males, "I found Miss Campbell wondering all by herself on the streets. As you can probably detect from her accent, she is not from London. The poor child has no memory whatsoever of what happened to her and how she ended up here. I couldn't just leave her out there on her own, so it is my intention to let her stay with us for a little while if she wants to, just until she gets her memory back and is able to find her way back home."

Turning to the kind landlady, I asked her, "Oh, are you sure?"

"Why, of course!" she smiled. "Dr. Dawson?" she asked the good doctor, turning to him.

"Yes, of course! By all means!" Dawson agreed, looking sympathetically at me.

"Quite out of the question, I'm afraid," said Basil, who was kneeling down in front of a wastepaper basket next to his red chair, throwing back some of its contents behind him as he was clearly looking for something.

"Oh, Mr. Basil, have a heart!" cried Mrs. Judson, her losing her patience with the detective could clearly be heard in her voice. "This poor child has been separated from her family! She has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to at this present moment. Surely you would not be so heartless as to throw this poor, vulnerable soul back out onto the streets to be prey to all sorts of fiendish ruffians?"

Looking back at the landlady with an expression of equal annoyance, he opened his mouth to say something back to her before his gaze quickly fell back upon me. Said gaze having softened a little as he kept his eyes on me for several seconds, he just let out a sigh of resignation before answering, "Fine, she can stay, so long as she causes no trouble for us."

"Oh, I promise I won't be a distraction to you, Mr. Basil," I told him.

"Much appreciated," he answered, not really looking at me as he took out what looked like a broken violin string before disappearing upstairs with it.

Obviously noticing the sad expression which crossed my face at that moment, Mrs. Judson put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry about him," she apologised. "But please, don't take it too personally. That's what he's usually like towards strangers, especially when his mind is on a case or one of those damned experiments of his."

Now knowing that my theory was correct, I merely shook my head as I replied, "No, it's okay."

"Hmm, no memory of what happened to her, you say?" muttered Dawson thoughtfully, with his hand to his chin. "It could be possible that Miss Campbell is suffering from a case of amnesia." Turning to me, he then asked, "Miss Campbell, are you sure you can't recall any events which might have happened before finding yourself in London?"

"No, doctor," I said. "Only that I had retired to my bedroom, in my home in Scotland, after having a small conversation with my father. I fell asleep and then woke up here in London. That's all I can remember."

"Hm, it definitely sounds like amnesia to me," he said to himself again. "Well, not to worry, my dear," he said to me again, smiling. "It'll all come back to you soon enough, I'm sure. In the meantime, do make yourself at home here."

"Thank you, all of you," I replied politely, bowing courteously.

"Aha! I _knew_ it!" We heard Basil suddenly cry from upstairs at that moment, causing the three of us to almost jump out of our skins. Barely two seconds later, the detective's footsteps could be heard rushing down the stairs before he reappeared back into the the living room, as excited as a child on Christmas morning.

"Wire, Dawson!" he cried again, holding the string up for us all to see. "_That's_our answer!"

Confused, we all merely just looked at the piece of string in Basil's hand before Dawson finally answered, "I'm afraid I don't follow you, Basil."

"Oh, it's so simple!" he told him, the excited smile still on his face. "But if it is still unclear to you, then please, come upstairs, all of you, and I shall be delighted to demonstrate!"

For a few seconds, Mrs. Judson, Dr. Dawson and I just exchanged glances before giving in and deciding just to follow the jaunty detective up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms.

"Now then," he began, much in the same manner of a school teacher addressing his class. "Dawson, I'm sure you'll remember that there were no signs of a forced entry into Miss Harrison's library?"

"Uh, yes, I believe I do," the good doctor answered, evidently still a little confused as to what the detective was going at.

"Well, that is merely due to the fact that there _was_ no forced entry," Basil explained. "The thief _didn't_ break into the library. He must've merely entered through the front door some time before closing time, like any normal customer would, but kept himself well hidden from everyone, even Miss Harrison herself as she went around counting her books as was her usual custom after closing up the library every night and before opening up again every morning. He waited until she and her brother had retired to bed before making his move. He crept up to the shelves which contained the books he was after, took them from their rightful place, and escaped."

Holding up the string again, he added, "Here is where the wire comes in." He pointed to a bolt on the door. "Now, let us all imagine just for the moment that this is the back door." Closing the door and locking it, he continued, "Now, like this very door here, the back door can only be locked from the inside. So after unlocking it, the thief must've wrapped the wire around the handle of the bar, like this." He had wrapped the string around the handle of the bolt in our own door as he said this. Next, he went around and closed the door behind him, still holding onto the string. "And once the door is closed behind him, the wire still in his hand, he pulls both ends, like so," The detective went on, his voice a little louder so we could hear him through the now closed door as he pulled the string. The bolt slid along until we heard the light _clack!_ which indicated that the lock was now secure. "Until he hears that the bolt is locked. At this point, he pulls away the wire, leaving not a single trace of his presence."

"I say, Basil!" exclaimed Dawson, surprised but still rather impressed with his companion's narrative. "That really is quite extraordinary, but how can you be so sure that that was indeed how the thief escaped?"

"Oh well, that's simple enough," answered Basil, continuing to smile that smug smile of his. "Without much evidence left as to how he could escape without forcing his way out, I thought very hard of any possible way one can leave a securely locked library without rousing the sleeping residents upstairs and disqualified any which I felt absurd. Aside from the theory which I have just demonstrated, the only other possibility I took into consideration which _might_have been suitable would be that the thief had read through his books until he came across and learned a spell which allowed him to either pass through walls or to transport from one place to another. That, of course, is preposterous, and I will continue to believe that until I see some proof that witchcraft indeed does exist. So I was left only with my wire theory as that seems the most likely explanation as of now."

"Oh well, you may be right," Dawson replied, nodding his head as he clearly decided just to take his friend's word for it. "But we still don't know who the thief is."

"Indeed, my good doctor, you're right!" Basil replied. Reaching into his pocket, he whipped out a piece of torn grey fabric as he added, "However, I believe this little token of today's trip can tell us one or two things about the rodent we're looking for."

Before any of us could answer him, the detective immediately dashed off through the hall, down the stairs and into the living room, his "little token" still in his hand. The three of us merely walked after him at our casual pace and upon entering the living room, we found the perky detective already at his chemical table, examining the piece of fabric under his microscope.

"Mm-hmm... ah yes, I recognise this," he muttered to himself.

"U-um..." I stammered, a little frightened to talk to him at first, considering how impolite he acted towards me less than five minutes ago. "How, if you don't mind me asking, did you come across that, Mr. Basil?"

"Very good question, Miss Campbell!" he answered with a smile, taking me a little bit by surprise. "I went out through the back door of the library and walked down the alleyway it led to, in search of any clues as to what type of rodent our friend might be. At last I came across this little piece of fabric caught on a nail sticking out from a long broken plank of wood. It clearly came from his coat, made with very cheap cloth, as you can see for yourself."

He took it out of his microscope and held it up for me to look at, but since I was never really good at telling the difference between cheap clothing and fine, expensive clothing unless I had seen the price, I was sort of glad that he didn't give me time to answer before putting it back under his microscope.

"Anyway," he continued. "Our friend clearly got a little anxious as he ran down the alleyway with his booty. Perhaps he saw or heard something which indicated that he was in danger of being caught and therefore arousing his fear. Could it have been an alley cat? A policemouse? A human? A beggar, a street urchin or any mouse at all passing by who might see him and act as a witness to his escape? Who knows? But during his escape, he must've caught his coat, clearly a long one at that, but in his haste, instead of merely bending over and carefully easing it off the nail, he pulled at it with all his strength until he tore free, leaving this singular piece of fabric behind. A fatal mistake any criminal can make if he doesn't want any evidence of himself left behind."

"So how can you tell that came from the thief?" I asked him. "I could've been anyone."

"Ah, that is because, my dear lady, that this little piece of fabric contains traces of coal dust," explained Basil again, taking the piece of fabric out from under his microscope once more and pointing at it. "A specific type of coal dust too, clearly that which is used in sewer lamps. I had come across this sort of thing before when hunting down a fiend who was employed by my old arch nemesis, the nefarious Professor Padraic Ratigan, whose profession was that of dominating the mouse underworld, where the most despicable of criminals usually dwell."

"Oh now, steady on there, Basil!" exclaimed Dawson again. "The professor has been dead for months and his gang were all arrested when we thwarted his plan on assassinating the Queen on the night of her Diamond Jubilee."

"Really, Dawson, you have an exquisite memory!" replied Basil. "But it is not a terribly uncommon thing for professional criminals to break out of prison. And if Ratigan's gang have indeed escaped and wished to regroup, they must've gotten themselves a new leader to replace their old one who met his end after falling off the hands of Big Ben. Indeed, it may not be one of the same group who we arrested last September, but that remains to be seen. Our next step now would be to visit a tailor somewhere down in one of the seediest corners of London, for only a tailor in a place like that would make and sell clothing of such a cheap quality."

"Oh, Basil..." groaned the doctor. "Must we do that now?"

Basil chuckled at this as he went over to pet his friend's shoulder. "No, no, Dawson," he told him reassuringly. "For you see, there are times when even Basil of Baker Street will need to refresh his memory on some things. For example, to save us a lot of unnecessary travelling through the whole city, I shall look up some of these places on my map of London. In the meantime, please sit down and enjoy that nice, hot cup of tea and plate of those delightful cheese crumpets Mrs. Judson has kindly left out for us for our return. And Miss Campbell too, if you don't mind."

"Thank you, sir," I said before the good doctor and myself went over to sit down to do just that, whilst poor Mrs. Judson insisted on cleaning up the mess Basil had made around the wastepaper bin earlier. When we had finished, I offered to help Dawson take the dishes through to the kitchen, but the kind doctor insisted that because I was a guest, I was just to sit down and make myself at home while he helped Mrs. Judson clean said dishes in the kitchen. Seeing that he was quite adamant, though he clearly appreciated my offer, I merely thanked him and sat down to continue with my book as he disappeared into the kitchen with the dishes. Again, I wasn't able to read very much before I was interrupted once more.

"Iona Campbell, eh?" I heard Basil say suddenly, taking me a little by surprise as I looked up from my book to find him now standing in front of me with a pipe in his hand. "That's a curious name. Had it not been for your accent, I would've rejected my immediate assumption that you were from Scotland. West of Glasgow, no doubt. Am I correct in my assumption, Miss Campbell?"

"Uh... y-yeah..." I stammered shyly. "That's right."

The detective took a pew puffs on his pipe before continuing. "Unless I am much mistaken, Iona is the name of a small island in the Inner Hebrides off the Western Coast of Scotland. It once held the name of 'Ioua', but whilst someone was copying the manuscript of _The Life of St. Columba_, they accidently spelt it with an 'n' instead of its original 'u'. The new name of 'Iona' was kept however, since the name 'Columba' is Latin for 'dove', and since 'Iona' is also a Hebrew word of the same meaning, it must've been considered rather appropriate to give the island its new name, which it has been called ever since. Over a thousand years ago, the island was the main religious site in Scotland, as it was where St. Columba himself, a very famous monk who was one of the main three pillars of the Irish Church, lived and even founded a monastery. However, after the Viking invasion in 794 AD, that monastery was abandoned."

I just sat there as I listened, astonished that this mouse could've known so much about the island after which I was named. Then again, this was Basil of Baker Street after all, the rodent equivalent to Sherlock Holmes, so I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised after all, knowing how incredibly brainy both detectives were, and therefore would've, amongst other things studied various places in the known world and their histories. However, that was not all Basil had to say about my "curious name".

"Then we come to your surname, Campbell, which originated from the Scottish Gaelic words, 'Cam' and 'Béal', which, when used together, mean 'crooked mouth' or 'wry-mouthed', originally a nickname which over time became used as a surname. So, surely one can be forgiven for assuming that a mouse with an incredibly Scottish name must be Scottish herself, or at least have come from a Scottish family."

"Well, you are right," I told him, unable to help the smile which had started to cross my face. "It was my mother who named me."

"Ah, not a bad choice, if I may," he replied, holding his pipe to his lips. "I do find the name rather fascinating, mainly because of the fact that it is unusual. Indeed you are the first mouse I have ever met with that name."

I had to turn away from him at that point, to hide the little blush I felt crossing my cheeks. "Thank you," I said quietly.

"Most welcome," he said. Though I was no longer really looking at him, I could tell from his tone that he was smiling. "Tell me, have you ever been to the island of Iona?"

"Yes, I have," I told him, nodding as I looked back up at him. "A few times actually. It's a really beautiful place."

"Is that so?" he asked, taking a few more puffs from his pipe. "In that case, I may have to pay a little visit there next time I desire a holiday."

"Indeed, I would recommend it," I smiled. But at that moment, I couldn't help but feel rather strange about having this rather pleasant conversation with the same mouse who had been extremely unpleasant to me earlier. Could this be his attempt at making up for it? If so, there was no need. A simple apology would've been just fine. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but feel I had forgiven him already, not just from knowing that that was just typical behaviour of him, but also because, as I have already mentioned, I had a crush on him.

"You must forgive me for my impertinence towards you earlier, Miss Campbell," said Basil suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. "But whenever I am on a case, I tend to expel any thoughts or consideration for anything or anyone else from my mind for maximum concentration."

"No, it's fine," I said, shaking my head.

"Anyway," he said, evidently wanting to change the subject. "I see you have already made acquaintance with Mrs. Judson and Dr. Dawson, so surely you must know who I am."

"Of course," I answered. "You're the famous Basil of Baker Street, the Sherlock Holmes of the mouse world. I have to say, I've been a great admirer of yours for some time."

Basil just chuckled. "Why, thank you, my dear. I am most flattered. Then again, had it not been for the fact that you had said so to my friend and colleague earlier on, one can easily deduce that you are an admirer of mine from your choice of book."

Looking down, I was immediately surprised that I had forgotten about the book in my hand. "Oh, yeah!" I cried. "This is Dr. Dawson's account on the very first case you had together."

"Ah, the Flaversham case," he replied, taking one last puff from his pipe. "My client from that case was Scottish too. A little girl by name of Olivia Flaversham, who was troubled about the disappearance of her father, Hiram, a beloved toy maker. But then of course, you probably already know about that, don't you?"

"Yes, indeed," I smiled, nodding. Though I only knew about this particular case because I had seen the movie countless time, and therefore, Dawson's written account of it never existed in my world.

Just then, the smile left Basil's face as his expression became more serious. "Now, on to more serious matters," he said, knocking his pipe against the table next to his red chair to get any remaining ash out of it. "Mrs. Judson had mentioned you having no memory as to what happened to you which would result in you being taken from your home and ending up here. Would you mind telling me exactly what happened? Pray, tell me absolutely everything you can remember."

"Um, well," I began. "There isn't that much to it really, but I'll tell you everything I can recall. I had just gone to bed last night, and for some reason, it took me a lot quicker to get to sleep than it usually would. Next thing I know, I wake up in an alleyway, just across the road from here actually, with no memory whatsoever as to what could've happened to me."

"That's very strange," replied Basil, nodding, though I could tell from his expression that he wasn't quite satisfied. "Are you sure you cannot remember anything else?"

"Well, nothing else that would be of any importance I'm afraid."

"Oh, come now, Miss Campbell," he answered. "Even the _slightest_ detail maybe of great importance in helping to solve this mystery, no matter how irrelevant it may seem at first. For example, what was the last thing you did before retiring to bed? Who was the last person you spoke to?"

"My father, sir," I answered. "I had a short conversation with him just before going to bed."

"I see. What, if you don't mind me asking, were the two of you talking about?"

"He was comforting me, sir. Yesterday was St. Valentine's Day as you know, and I always end up feeling rather depressed on that day."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because..." I began, looking down in sadness and slight embarrassment from what I was about to tell him. "I've never been in a romantic relationship, despite my high hopes and my few attempts at it."

"Really?" the detective asked, sounding a little surprised. "What did your father have to say to that?"

"He said that if I was patient and gave it time, it would eventually happen on its own accord," I said, looking back up at him.

"Well, he is absolutely right, Miss Campbell," he told me reassuringly. "But is that all he said to you last night?"

"Yes, that's pretty much it," I told him. "Why?"

"Well, did your father not say anything else to you?" he asked me. "Nothing which aroused any fear or suspicion on your part?"

"No, sir," I said. "I don't think he could've foreseen my disappearance, or indeed any danger I might've been in. If he did, he would've warned me about it and done what he could to protect me, or at least suggested ways for me to protect myself. My father loves me very much, Mr. Basil, and I'm sure he and the rest of my family are very worried about me right now. So he couldn't possibly have arranged my eviction if that's another theory that's come into your mind, sir, with all do respect."

There was a short silence, before the detective finally said, "No, I suppose not. But are you sure you don't recall anything out of the ordinary occurring that night? Do you not remember eating or drinking anything at all yesterday which tasted or even smelt a little peculiar to you?"

"No, not at all," I said, shaking my head. "Everything I ate yesterday was fine."

"Hm, so you could not have been drugged then?" said Basil thoughtfully, putting his hand to his chin.

"No, I don't think so."

"I see. Miss Campbell, do you have any enemies at all?"

"Well, I used to have lots of them whilst I was at school," I said to him. "I was a very unpopular pupil at every school I went to. I never really had many friends and I was very badly bullied. But I left school about a year and a half ago, so they're all pretty much out of my life now and I haven't had any suspicion of them stalking me or wishing to stay in my life to cause me more misery or anything."

"What about your family?' Basil asked me again. "Do they have any enemies?"

"Um, none that I know of, sir," I replied. "Certainly none that I know of who would wish to cause me any harm just to spite them."

"I see. So you haven't seen or heard any threats from anyone at all lately?"

I shook my head again. "None that I can remember, sir."

There was another short silence before the detective finally asked me one final time, "So you don't remember anything unusual that happened at all yesterday?"

"Well..." I began, slightly hesitant to mention this one particular detail which I thought may be irrelevant. But since Basil had already said that even the most irrelevant details might be important, I just continued, "Perhaps there was this_one_ thing. After I had finished my conversation with my father, I had just retired to my bedroom, as you already know. To get to my bed, I have to pass this large window that looks out onto a large garden. It was while I was passing this window that I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I suppose you remember it being a particularly starry night last night, Mr. Basil?"

The detective nodded. "Please continue," he said. "What did you see?"

"Well," I continued, just as he told me. "I saw this one star that was considerably brighter than the rest of them."

"Mm-hm..." he said, clearly with great interest. "What happened then?"

"Now, look, Mr. Basil," I said quite firmly to him. "I'm generally a rather practical woman. I am in no way superstitious, so I don't at all believe in the supernatural or the paranormal. The same goes for any common myths, or curses, or fairy tales or anything like that. Hence why I felt rather silly for what I did next."

"Which is...?" the detective asked me again, raising an eyebrow.

"I..." I went on, starting to blush a little with embarrassment again. "I made a wish on it. I wished to one day fine true love. And yes, I knew it was very unlikely that that alone would help make my wish come true, and that's why I felt silly for doing such a childish thing. Even now, I can't seem to work out why I did it."

Basil merely smiled and chuckled a little. "We all find ourselves doing the strangest of things, no matter how little they are, without any sort of explanation we can give, even to ourselves. It's usually of no consequence. But after you made that wish, you went to your bed and fell asleep a lot quicker than you normally would, correct?"

"Yes," I said to him. "And that is all I can remember, Mr. Basil."

"You're absolutely certain?" he asked me one last time.

"Yes," I answered again, nodding. Then I felt a little scared because of some of his previous questions. "Look, Mr. Basil, you don't believe that I'm in any trouble, do you?"

"I can't say for sure," he merely said. Then, seeing my slightly worried expression, he went on reassuringly, "Do not worry, Miss Campbell. I promise I shall help you any way I can once I have solved this case in which I am currently engaged. Until then, please, make yourself at home here. We can't have a young lady as vulnerable as yourself wondering through the streets of London on your own should any harm come to you."

"Thank you, Mr. Basil," I said quietly.

_But can you help me travel back to the 21st century too?_, I asked in my head.

"Say, Miss Campbell, this wouldn't be your first time in London, would it?" asked Basil, suddenly changing the subject again.

"Hm? Oh, no, I've been here a few times, actually," I replied. "Why?"

"Well..." he began. "I was merely, wondering, since you're clearly going to be with us for some time, that you would like me to take you on a little tour around the city."

I looked up at him in surprise. "But, sir, what about this case of yours?"

"Oh, that can wait," he smiled. "Besides, I may need some more time to think about it more clearly."

For a moment, I just eyed him suspiciously. Why was this mouse who has only just met me offering to take me on a tour around London? This was Basil of Baker Street after all, who, like his human counterpart, no doubt doesn't have the least bit of interest in being in a romantic relationship and considers himself married only to his detective work. So he couldn't possibly be asking me out on a date, could he? And from the way he spoke, as well as concerning the circumstances, he didn't really need longer to think about which step to take next in finding out who the culprit of his current case was. However, it wasn't long before I just decided to assume that he may be wanting some time to get to know his next would-be client a little better, in order to find out more about me that could help him get me back home.

"Sure, I'd love to," I eventually answered with a smile.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed happily, walking over to the bronze suit of armour where he had hung his Inverness coat and deerstalker. "Mrs. Judson!" he shouted in the direction of the kitchen. "Bring a cape for Miss Campbell! I'm taking her out for a little bit and I'm sure she'll need something to protect her from the cold!"

Mrs. Judson who had just come out of the kitchen with Dr. Dawson at that point, just looked at Basil with a slightly confused expression before she merely nodded and went upstairs, presumably to get a cape for me as Basil had requested.

"Now then, Miss Campbell," Basil began again, turning my attention back to him. "How shall the two of us go around London together? Shall we hop a hansom cab? No, that would most likely take us all day. There's no telling where the human passengers will want to be taken and how many times we'll just be brought back to a specific area. We need something we can have to ourselves, something one of us can control. Aha! I've got it! You and I can ride Toby together. You simply must _meet_ him, Miss Campbell. He's just the chap for this!"

_Toby!?_ I became excited then, for Toby was another character I remember from the film. He was Basil's trusty canine companion who occasionally helps him track down criminals. Since Toby was one of my favourite characters, and also because of the fact that I was a strong adorer of dogs, how could I not be?

After Mrs. Judson had come back downstairs with a blue cape and helped me to put it on, I waited until no one was looking before I took one of the cheese crumpets the landlady had made for me and held it behind my back, knowing that that was Toby's favourite treat.

"We shall go upstairs, to the home of the great Sherlock Holmes," Basil continued, turning round to face me once more. "That is where Toby lives. But we must be very quiet upon ascending. I fear Mr. Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson may be home at present, and we mustn't let them see us. Now, let us be on our way."

Because of the fact that the detective didn't take that long a break between each sentence, it was only just as he took my hand and started leading me towards a corridor, which presumably led upstairs that I was able to register what he had just said. My heart pounded in my chest as I became even more excited, knowing then that he was taking me up to the very apartment which was the home of the very same great human detective from Conan Doyle's most famous stories, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!


	4. Chapter 4

Ascending those dark and dusty staircases with Basil was another less than pleasant experience for me that day. Aside from the lantern which Basil held out in front of him as he lead the way, there was no light at all to guide us through the seemingly never ending darkness which surrounded us. It was a little too quiet for comfort too, the only sounds heard was our footsteps against the worn wood and the occasional whisper of, "This way, Miss Campbell," from the detective. The air too smelt musty and stale, making it slightly difficult to breathe. Though that may probably have been also to do with the fact that the maze of corridors and staircases he was leading me through were very narrow spaces. Although we were both only little mice, it still made me feel a little claustrophobic. A few times, Basil had to brush a cobweb out of our way, which aroused the fear in me of what would happen if we were to bump into a common house spider on our way. If those things made me feel uncomfortable even when I was a human at least fifty times their size, imagine my reaction if that was to happen to me now that I was a little mouse. However, the fact that I had Basil with me. That along with the memory of seeing him slip a revolver into an inside pocket in his Inverness coat gave me a sense of comfort and security, as I knew that he would know exactly what to do if anything should happen to us.

Though however quiet our movements were, they were also thankfully very quick and it really didn't seem that long before we stopped in front of what looked like a circular-shaped door. It was at that point that Basil turned to me and put a finger to his lips, indicating that he wanted me to remain silent. I simply nodded as he turned back and took a few careful steps up to the door before gingerly putting his ear against the wood, listening to the few male voices which I could hear talking amongst themselves from the other side.

"Sounds like they have a client," he whispered before gently pushing the door open as gently as he could, hoping to make as little noise as possible. Once it was opened wide enough, he took a quick look around.

"No, just that bungler, Inspector Lestrade," he sighed, clearly somewhat annoyed. I couldn't help but giggle in response, causing Basil to smile back at me and put his finger to his lips again before waving his hand over as a gesture for me to join him. I did so, taking light, quiet steps until I was right next to the detective. Looking out of the opening, my heart immediately filled up with excitement again as my eyes fell on the three men I had just heard, two of whom I instantly recognised. The man with a somewhat hawk-like face standing between a chair and a couch I immediately assumed was Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself! The older looking man with grey hair and a moustache seated upon the chair on Mr. Holmes' right with a rather tired expression, must've been his best friend and biographer, Dr. John H. Watson. The younger man sitting on the couch on Mr. Holmes' left with a matching sleepy expression I guessed to be the one Basil was referring to be Inspector Lestrade. The whole thing had only just registered when I heard the doorbell ringing from downstairs.

"Ah, that will be our four-wheeler," smiled Holmes before quickly walking into his room behind them. "Don't forget the revolver, Watson," he called back to his friend. "And bring the rugs."

"This outing wouldn't be inspired by your 'eye-dee fix', would it?" asked Lestrade sleepily, rubbing his tired eyes.

"'Idée fix'", corrected Watson, putting on his coat.

"Yes, those plaster busts," said Lestrade.

"I have high hopes, Lestrade," said Holmes, who had just returned wearing a black coat and top hat. "The betting would be exactly two to one that if you were to join us tonight, you will have the murderer in custody before the sun rises."

"I'm not a betting man, Mr. Holmes -" grumbled Lestrade.

"Then you have nothing to lose by, do you?" interrupted Holmes before quickly walking out of the door, his footsteps could be heard in the hall outside towards the stairs.

"Except a good night's sleep," grumbled Watson, who was now standing behind the inspector and wearing his coat and bowler hat. Lestrade let out a frustrated sigh in response, stood and put on his own hat before the two men followed the detective out of the door. Basil and I waited in our little hole until we heard the door downstairs opening and closing, followed by the sound of horses' hooves clopping against concrete, indicating that the three men were now leaving in their four-wheeler. Once we were sure that the coast was clear, we started to climb out onto the fuchsia carpet in the huge room.

"Poor Dr. Watson," I chuckled, highly amused by the scene I had just witnessed. "And poor Inspector Lestrade too."

"Oh, I'm sure Mr. Holmes will be kind enough to let them catch up on their sleep once this murderer he speaks of has been caught and put behind bars," Basil reassured me with a smile of his own as he helped me out of the hole. "Besides," he continued, his expression becoming a little more serious. "If indeed it is a murderer they are looking for, then it is clearly much too important a task for them to be lying down on."

"Good point," I answered, nodding.

"Now then," Basil chirped, his smile returning. "Before I call on Toby, I must tell you, please do not be startled when you see him. He is rather big, but I can assure you he is also very friendly."

"No, it'll be okay," I replied, returning his smile.

"Good," said Basil, before turning round. That was then that I took the opportunity of looking around Sherlock Holmes' flat, which of course I also recognised from the film. Ahead of us was a fireplace, on our left red chair with a few white doilies hanging over it and on our right was a coffee table covered with a long turquoise tablecloth which hung down to the floor adorned with Holmes' chemistry set. Although I had just seen the man in person, it still felt like an honour to be standing in his flat, even if I would've been just a mere pesky little mouse to him. It was also a relief to finally be standing out in such a huge room after having to travel through those dark, claustrophobic staircases inside the wall.

I immediately turned back to Basil when I heard him whistling. "Toby!" he called, before whistling again. "Toby!"

Barely a few seconds later, the ground started rumbling beneath my feet before a slender Basset hound with fur of different shades of brown and a blue collar around his neck came bounding into the room, his tongue lolling out of his smiling mouth as he ran. I immediately recognised him as Toby, Sherlock Holmes' pet and also Basil's trusty canine companion. He stopped just in front of me and the detective and looked down at us with those big brown eyes of his, panting and wagging his tail eagerly.

"Miss Campbell," Basil smiled, motioning his hand up at the big dog in front of us. "Allow me to introduce my most trusted teed, Toby." He then put his hand to my back and gently pushed me forward a couple of steps. "Toby, I'd like you to meet Miss Iona Campbell, a very charming young lady."

I smiled and let out a quiet giggle, flattered by Basil's compliment as I felt the heat of a light blush appearing in my cheeks. But my eyes remained locked with Toby's as he lowered his head down towards me, sniffing at me curiously.

"Hello, Toby," I said to him, smiling as I petted his big wet nose. Then, remembering the cheese crumpet I had in my pocket, I reached into it and asked, "Would you like a crumpet?"

He immediately started nodding eagerly as I pulled the crumpet out of my pocket and held it out for him, very much in the same fashion Olivia Flaversham did in the movie. Toby's tongue then flicked his huge tongue across my hand and, within a flash, the crumpet was gone. I chuckled as I watched the now happy dog licking his lips, clearly savouring the taste of the tiny little crumpet he had just swallowed whole. He smiled back down at me and lowered his head down to my level once more.

"Oh, you are such a good dog!" I cooed to him in that same adoring tone I would use with my own dear Sirius back home as I ruffled my hands through the fur on Toby's snout. "Yes, you are! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

I was completely lost in the sound of Toby's happy panting mixed with me doing that baby talk with him until I heard the sound of chuckling behind me. Turning back, I was faced with Basil, his arms folded and a warm smile crossing his features. Clearly, he was amused by the scene in front of him.

"I must say, Miss Campbell," he began. "I am very impressed. Most of my clients who I introduce him to are usually frightened of him at first."

"Oh, it's nothing really," I simply tell him. "I have a dog back home, you see."

Just then, Basil's smile left his face and he raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a confused expression. It was then that I remembered that I was no longer a human and thought how strange that would sound to a mouse.

"Uh... that is... the humans that live above me do," I corrected myself instantly, feeling the heat of embarrassment crossing my face. "But we go upstairs sometimes to visit him and he really is quite a darling."

"Really?" asked Basil, smiling again. "What's his name?"

"Sirius," I answered.

"Sirius, eh?" Basil repeated. "A very unusual name for a dog, no? Did these humans name him after the 'Dog star' in the sky, perchance?"

"Yes, indeed," I smiled back.

"I see," answered Basil. "And what breed is Sirius then?".

"Oh, he's a cross between a German shepherd and a border collie," I told him.

"Ah, interesting," said Basil. Just then, my heart sank a little as I remembered my dear Sirius back home. How distraught he, like the rest of my family no doubt, must be at my sudden absence. I then began to picture him whimpering like crazy, looking up at them all very worried, as if asking them where I had disappeared to and one of them telling him apologetically that they didn't know but they were just as worried as he was whilst petting him to try and comfort him. The mental image was very heartbreaking for me, but I immediately began to mentally shake it away, not wanting to let any expressions of sadness cross my face that would arouse suspicion on Basil's part.

"Toby," said Basil again, turning back to the big dog in front of us. "I wish to take Miss Campbell here for a tour around London and you are the very hound for the job. Would you do us the honour of being our escort for the day?"

Toby looked down at his little master and nodded enthusiastically before lowering himself down and held one of his long, floppy ears out for us. We both stepped lightly onto his ear and he lifted us up as he stood, manoeuvring us towards his head. Basil climbed on first and helped me on after him before we both went down and positioned ourselves at the back of the big dog's neck. I took hold of his collar with both hands, but Basil sat behind me, holding onto said collar with one hand and wrapped his free arm around my waist. The sudden touch caused me to tense a little, mostly from surprise, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel the closeness to be rather warming, even if he was only just doing it to make sure I would be safe whilst riding Toby through the streets of London.

"All right, Toby!" chirped Basil, pulling me from my thoughts. "Take us away!"

And with that, Toby started bounding off out of the room, through the hall and down the stairs. At first, I was very scared because, from the speed he was going at, I thought I was going to fall off. I just held onto his collar as tightly as I could, clenched my eyes shut and felt the wind brush across my face, hoping I would be able to keep myself on. I didn't dare to even crack a single eyelid open for fear of what I might see. It got even more frightening as he ran down the stairs, causing me to feel as if my stomach was trying to fly up into the back of my throat as he quickly went downwards, too quickly for comfort. That made my fear of flying off all the worse, but I was very glad at feeling that we finally reached the bottom of the stairs. But even as we seemed to be flying through another hall, I still held on for dear life and fought to keep my eyes shut. To me, this whole experience was a bit like being on a roller-coaster. Not even feeling that Basil's grip around my waist had tightened a lot more was of much comfort to me.

As soon as I was aware that we were outside, I was afraid then that it would get much worse. So I braced myself for the lightning fast ride through London when...

"Whoa, whoa! Toby, whoa!" I heard Basil cry, before feeling Toby suddenly coming to a complete halt. Still recovering from the shock of that terrifying ride, I waited a few seconds before daring to open one eyelid, just making out the streets of London. Deciding then to let my eyes open by themselves, I felt my whole body begin to relax as I let out a huge sigh of relief.

This got another chuckle out of Basil. "You must forgive Toby, my dear," he told me. "He tends to get a little excited when I take him out to help me with a case or what have you."

"No, no, that's fine," I said, just really glad that it was all over.

"Now then," Basil said, thoughtfully. "Where shall we start?" Turning up towards the building which we had just left, he smiled and went on, "Ah! The home of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, of course! Now, Mr. Holmes moved here with his friend, Dr. Watson after they were introduced to each other by a friend of the good doctor's in 1881."

As I listened to Basil telling me the history of his human counterpart, I felt as though I was seeing two spirits combined as one. This was a man who spent his life solving crimes, never once knowing there was a smaller version of himself living below his floorboards. This smaller version was the one I knew and loved for many years. However, I grew ashamed then, that despite my love for the film to which Basil belonged, it never occurred to me that he was indeed a pastiche of the great detective which I had heard about so many times.  
I guess I was just preoccupied with other interests for a long time before entering the fandom. Then, and only then, did I develop any interest in said great detective and all his marvellous adventures. That was what I was ashamed of. However, I decided then that I would make up for it whenever I could by asking Basil if he owned any copies of Watson's accounts on those adventures and ask if he would let me read them.

When Basil finished, he ordered Toby to leave Baker Street. Now I was finally getting a real excursion of the city. On my first trip with my dad years ago, I took a tour around the grand English capital. However, this wasn't the modern London I saw when I was younger. This was London in the Victorian era, which, for some reason, seemed more exciting to me. Maybe it was because I was now exploring the world of Sherlock Holmes and Basil of Baker Street. The fact that this was Victorian London, which was nowhere near as clean and hygienic as the modern one, made no difference to me at that point. I had always wondered what it was like to explore the streets of a Victorian city, and now I was getting that privilege.

Throughout the tour, I was thankful that Basil knew not to take us to the slums, as I knew from my history lessons at school that those were the filthiest areas of the city. Being a gentlemouse, I figured he would keep well clear of a place like that, especially when doing the honour of taking a young lady for a tour around such a city. Instead, he merely took me around to show me some of the various landmarks, with the occasional break and bite to eat, of course.

Although the tour only lasted for about a day, we were surprisingly able to see quite a lot of the landmarks. First, Basil took me to see the Houses of Parliament and the tower of Big Ben, followed by Westminster Abbey. Next, we passed under the Admiralty Arch to get to Buckingham Palace before he took me to see Piccadilly Circus, which looked so much different from the one I recognise from the modern era without all those screens and adverts on it. He even took me further away than I expected he would, so that we could pay visits to other landmarks such as St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tower of London and even Tower Bridge. Seeing all of these landmarks amongst a Victorian city seemed to make them so much grander than seeing them in a modern one. The whole experience definitely made me feel like I was in another world. Well, in a way, I was. Though I really enjoyed this trip all the same, especially since the one I was sharing it with was Basil of Baker Street himself.

Eventually, evening had arrived and Basil and I stopped at a really beautiful restaurant for dinner, where we just chatted to each other about little bits of our lives. I was thankful that I was able to carry on these conversations I with him without trying to figure out any clever way to dodge revealing anything to him about the modern world from which I had come. The food was a little bit rich, but also very delicious. I felt bad that Basil had to pay for it all, even though he had plenty of money on him, but then remembered that it wasn't my fault as I had no money of my own upon entering this universe anyway.

Night had fallen by the time Basil decided to finish our tour with a little visit to Trafalgar Square. The day had gone by very quickly, I felt, though it only felt as though a mere hour had passed. Of course, I naturally put that down to the fact that I had enjoyed our little day out so much.

Upon entering the square, I was pleased to see that the lanterns were bright enough for me to be able to see the wonderful huge fountains and black lion statues. Indeed, it was a very beautiful sight, said lanterns casting a bright glow over the entire square, though as I looked up, I could just make out the dark silhouette of Nelson's Column against the even darker night sky. My heart immediately sank then as I thought of my sister back home, who had been keenly interested in the life of Nelson and other things to do with the Georgian Navy for a very long time. I then found myself hoping then that, although I was thoroughly enjoying my time with Basil, I would soon be able to find a way back home. I let out a sad sigh, releasing a small mist which sailed out through the cold night air. I watched as it flew upwards towards the statue of Nelson, casting a sort of ghostly aura around the stone replica of the famous admiral as he stood proudly on the top of his column. It looked as though he had returned from the dead to remind everyone of his greatest victory.

"Well, there he is," said Basil suddenly, interrupting me from my thoughts. "Lord Horatio Nelson himself, the greatest hero Britain has ever known."

I looked back to Basil's smiling face as he stared up in the direction of the column and followed his gaze back towards it before turning back to face the detective. "Well, _one_ of them anyway," I replied, giving him a smile of my own.

Basil turned back to face me and let out a chuckle. "Yes, of course. We mustn't forget the great Sherlock Holmes. That would be absolute sacrilege."

I giggled then, at the very idea of Basil of Baker Street, the practical, forward thinking mouse who worships practically no one, would ever use such a word. Then again, he was talking about his human counterpart, Sherlock Holmes, after all, so I figured the great human detective would make for an exception.

"Well, yes, he _does_ count," I told him. "Though I was really thinking more of you than anyone else."

Basil just smiled and chuckled lightly again. "I am very flattered by that, Miss Campbell," he said. His face then dropped somewhat when he added, "But, alas, I am no hero."

"Sure, you are!" I said encouragingly. "All the mice in Britain think you're the best thing since the invention of the steam engine."

Basil's face brightened up a little again before asking, "Would one of those mice be you, perchance?"

I immediately froze as I felt a light blush coming on. "U-uh... y-yeah..." I stammered, trying very hard not to burst out laughing with embarrassment.

But Basil just smiled. "Thank you, my dear,"

"No problem," I smiled back. Keeping my eyes on the detective, I was a little confused to see a glimpse of sadness in his own jade green orbs. However, I was only able to wonder about it for a couple of seconds before he looked up into mine. We just sat there in silence for a couple of seconds, just staring into each others' eyes. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I could see that the sadness in his eyes was instantly replaced with... was that longing?

Yet again, I didn't have very much time to think about it before he immediately cleared his throat and took out his pocket watch.

"My goodness, would you look at the time!?" he cried, the surprise in his voice clearly exaggerated, presumably to try and distract me from what had just happened. Though sadly it didn't work, as I was still left confused about it. "My dear, you must be exhausted!" he went on. "We had better get going now if you want to be back in time for bed."

Before I could reply, Basil immediately ordered Toby to take us back to Baker Street.

~

When we got back, Basil thanked Toby for being our escort for the day before sending him back up to Sherlock Holmes' flat.

"Thank you, Basil, for that wonderful tour today," I said, smiling.

Basil just chuckled. "You are most welcome, my dear," he replied. "I know you probably won't be able to stay too long, for I'll no doubt have to help you find your way back home once I've solved my current case. However, if you ever feel like returning to London one day, I'd be more than happy to give you another tour."

"You really mean that?" I asked him, unable to stop the smile on my face from getting bigger.

"Of course," he replied again, returning my smile.

"Oh, thank you so much!" I cried, unable to stop myself from throwing myself at Basil and wrapping my arms around him.

"U-um, again, you're welcome," he said, the surprise could be heard in his voice as he hesitantly returned my embrace.

Suddenly realising what I was doing, I immediately pulled myself off him. "Sorry," I said quietly, blushing from embarrassment.

But Basil merely laughed. "That's quite all right," he said.

And then it happened again. We both found ourselves staring into each others' eyes, but more deeply this time. For short while, I felt my heart begin to flutter a little as I recognised that same look of slight longing in his bright green eyes. Before I knew what was even happening, Basil started leaning his face in towards mine before immediately stopping himself and turning his face away from me, a deep blush beginning to appear on his cheeks.

"I, er..." he trailed off.

"Yes," I asked, trying to look round to meet his gaze again.

"Nothing," he answered, shaking his head. "Goodnight, Miss Campbell," he added, quickly opening the front door and going inside without waiting for a reply from me.

The whole thing happened so quickly that it was only at that moment that my brain was able to register what had indeed just happened.

_Was he... just about to kiss me there?_ I thought. But I just shook my head._No, of course he wasn't_, I tried to tell myself, thinking that if I was correct in thinking that if Basil was really very much like his human counterpart, Sherlock Holmes, he would have no interest in being in any romantic relationship whatsoever. Besides, even if he did, the guy had only just met me that morning, right? So there'd be no way that he would have fallen in love with me that quickly. Plus, this was a mouse who specialised in crime, so he would be very careful not to trust anyone so quickly until he got to know them better. And yet, despite all of that, I just couldn't shake the notion that that was indeed what he was about to do.

Choosing not to think anymore about it, I just followed him inside, closing the door behind me.

~*~*~*~

"Oh, that doesn't look too good, Professor," said one of the two thugs that were watching the whole scene in front of them with their master.

"Yeah," replied the other one nervously. "L-looks as though that Basil has... beaten you to her."

The reason why these two thugs were so nervous was because they were now expecting said master to lose his temper and more than likely take it out on the both of them. This was usually what happened when one of his plots didn't go according to plan. This particular plot of his, they knew, involved, in some small way, a certain young female mouse who they all had just watched through that portal he had conjured up. And from everything they had just witnessed from the glowing image in front of them, things certainly didn't look as if they were going according to plan at all, did they?

The two nervous thugs had just started to back away when they heard an unexpected chuckle come from their master.

"U-uh... B-boss...?" the first one stammered, afraid that his master might be losing his mind. "Wh-what is it?"

"Oh, I don't think we'll have to worry about losing young Miss Campbell just yet, boys," he told them, smiling sinisterly as he continued to watch her. "Yes, she may have went completely against my plan so far. Injuring poor Monty like that for instance. And certainly her meeting up with Basil of Baker Street was not part of my original plan. However, I wouldn't say that anything has gone terribly wrong just yet."

"B-b-b-but, Professor," the second thug began. "If her and that bloody meddling detective _do_ fall in love, then your brilliant plan will have been ruined!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say so, my dear Neville," said the professor reassuringly to his henchmen. "In fact, if I am correct, about which I have no doubt, I may be able to use that to my advantage."

There was a short silence, during which the two thugs just looked at each other before turning back to their master. The second thug gulped before asking, "So, uh... you don't want us to go and fetch her now then, do you, Professor?"

The professor merely shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary, Charlie," he answered. "In fact, I think it would be better for now just to continue to keep a close eye on our little doe for a while longer, just in case. There certainly seems to be a spark between the them, so let's just see if that spark can be fanned into a flame at all, shall we? Yes, bringing Miss Campbell here was originally meant to be a little addition to my plan, to make it more interesting, However, if Basil does indeed fall in love with her, she may prove to be much more useful to us than we first thought."

Turning to face each other, Neville and Charlie's nervous expressions slowly morphed into sadistic grins, now understanding why their master was rather pleased at this unexpected outcome.

"Now, go, both of you!" the professor ordered with a wave of his hand. "I wish to be alone now."

"Right, boss," replied Charlie, still grinning. "Whatever you say."

The two thugs snickered evilly as they both exited the room, leaving their master alone with the glowing image in front of him.

"Enjoy your time with him while you still can, my dear," sneered the professor, still watching the girl who had just changed into her night clothes. "For soon, it shall be cut short, when you least expect it."


	5. Chapter 5

"What the hell is happening to me!?" I asked myself as I sat on the bed. "I can't _possibly_ be falling in love with him, can I? I mean, okay, I kinda was to start with, but it was just a stupid, childish crush, that was all. So why am I feeling like this? I mean, he _is_ just a fictional character after all. Except he's not now, is he? Not now that I'm in the same universe as him. Or am I?"

I let out a frustrated sigh as I put my hands to my face. "I don't know anymore," I breathed. "I just don't."

Letting my hands fall onto my lap, I decided then to try and pull myself together. "Oh, what does it matter anyway? He's gonna help me go home soon, once he's solved that case with the librarian. But how the hell is he gonna manage that!?"

With all these thoughts running through my head, I sank down onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow. As much I didn't want to admit it, I _was_falling in love with Basil. I tried so hard to tell myself just how ridiculous the whole thing was. What with him being a fictional character and all, as well as being a pastiche of Sherlock Holmes, so there'd be no way that he'd ever be interested in getting into a romantic relationship. And even if he was, why would he be interested in me of all the female mice in of all of London? Hell, in all the _world_?

"What the hell is going on...?"

~

Later, I was down in the living room with Basil, Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson. We were talking, drinking tea and nibbling on some of Mrs. Judson's cheese crumpets, which actually turned out to be quite nice. Basil told me he had invited Hiram Flaversham and his little daughter Olivia over to meet me that evening, which I was really excited about. Those were another couple of characters I really loved, and besides, talking to them should help take my mind off my current situation, I thought.

Eventually, after Basil had just finished playing us a beautiful tune on his violin, there was a knock at the front door.

"Oh, good heavens!" cried Mrs. Judson happily, standing from the couch. "That must be them now!"

"No no, Mrs. Judson," said Basil, holding his hand up as he too stood from his big red chair. "I'll get that."

He went over to the door and opened it. Sure enough, there stood a slender mouse with huge glasses and a rather bushy moustache holding hands with a little girl wearing a long blue coat and tartan scarf and a Tam O'Shanter hat, both of the same colour. These two I immediately recognised as Hiram Flaversham, and his only daughter Olivia.

The five mice all exchanged hugs and handshakes as they greeted each other while Basil very politely took their coats and Olivia's hat and scarf. Then Basil started guiding the two over in my direction.

"Mr. Flaversham, Olivia," said Basil, motioning towards me. "I'd like you to meet Miss Iona Campbell."

"Ah! Why, hello there, Miss Campbell," smiled Hiram, offering his hand to me. "Hiram Flaversham, at your service."

"Hello, Mr. Flaversham," I replied, smiling back as I took his hand and shook it with him. Just then, I felt something tugging lightly at the skirt of my dress. Looking down, I was immediately met with the bright smiling face of Olivia.

"And I'm Olivia," she said, also holding her hand out to me. "Very nice to meet you."

I smiled back down at the child, chuckling before taking her tiny little hand into my own and gently shaking it with her next. "Hello there, Miss Flaversham. It's very nice to meet you too."

"Oh, you're from Scotland too?" she asked in an excited tone, obviously recognising my accent.

I chuckled again. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, that is so wonderful!" cried the little girl happily.

I just kept on smiling down her. To me, she was even more adorable in person than in the film.

"Mr. Flaversham, Olivia, please do take a seat," Basil told them, motioning Hiram towards his red chair. The toy maker looked back at the detective and was about to object, but Basil insisted and Hiram just accepted his offer before taking a seat.

"Now, then, how about a cup of tea?" Basil asked him.

"Hm? Oh, yes please," answered Hiram.

"Very good," said Basil, before turning towards Olivia, who had just climbed up onto the sofa next to me, much to my amusement. Knowing that we two both came from the same country must've instantly won her over. "What would you like, Miss Flackinabox?"

The little girl just giggled before saying, "'Flaversham', Basil!"

Basil chuckled in response before answering, "Whatever. Shall I get Mrs. Judson to bring you some hot chocolate?"

"Oh, yes please, if you don't mind, Basil," she chirped.

"No, not at all, my dear," smiled Basil, before turning to Mrs. Judson. "Mrs. Judson?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Basil," the landlady smiled back before standing and making her way towards the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with a cup of tea for Hiram and hot chocolate for Olivia. The child took sip from her cup before looking up at me.

"So, are you a new friend of Basil's then, Miss Campbell?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose you could say that," I answered. "But we just met a few days ago."

"It only took me a night to be Basil's friend," she merely said, before taking another sip from her mug. "When I went to him for help."

"Yes, he did tell me all about that," I said.

"I'll never forget how heroic Basil was when he rescued me and Daddy from that horrible, old rat, who he reassured me is now burning forever downstairs," said Olivia, staring into the blazing fireplace in front of her. "And for that same length of time, I will always be grateful to Basil for what he did for us."

There was a short silence between us as I tried to think how to change the subject of what must've been a traumatic experience for the poor child.

"So, what brought you and your father here to England anyway, Miss Flaversham?" I eventually asked.

"Hm? Oh, a whole bunch of things really," she began to explain. "See, Daddy had already opened a toy shop somewhere in Glasgow, but jobs in Scotland weren't all that good. Besides, he wasn't very happy there, because it was apparently too full of memories for him of my mother, who is up in heaven now."

"I'm sorry," I told her sadly.

But Olivia just shook her head. "No, it's fine," she simply answered. "I don't have any memories of her because she died not long after I was born."

"Hm," I just said, nodding my head. I was happy that Olivia wasn't too upset over her mother's dead, though I still found it sad for any child to have to go through life having never met both their parents.

"Also, I was very lonely at the school I went to there," she went on. "Didn't have a lot of friends and I got bullied a lot."

"Ah, I know that very feeling," I told her. "That's what life was like for me at school as well."

"Really?" she asked, looking up at me with surprise.

"Yes..." I answered. "Still," I went on, not really wishing to discuss my own depressing life at school. "I trust your lives have gotten much better since you came to London?"

"Oh, definitely!" she said, the cute little smile returning to her face. "Daddy opened a toy shop somewhere not too far from here, and he's been making much more money for us to live more comfortably. And he's been a lot happier since then. And I'm having a much better time at school."

I smiled then, very glad to hear how much Olivia and her father's lives had improved upon moving to London. "That's very good, Miss Flaversham."

"Thanks," the little girl smiled happily. "So what about you? What made you come to England?"

I hesitated just then. The truth about where I had come from was definitely something I could not tell her either. If this was something I highly doubted someone as old and mature as Basil would understand, imagine how confused someone as young and innocent as Olivia would be if I tried to explain it to her.

Though luckily, I was saved from having to think of something to tell her, when Mrs. Judson suddenly said, "As it turns out, Miss Campbell is quite a talented singer."

This immediately caused everyone's eyes, filling up with interest to turn towards me.

"Oh, really?" asked Dr. Dawson, beaming.

"Well," I simply answered, giving a modest lopsided smile. "Hardly talented. But I'm certainly quite good at it most of the time."

"Oh, much more than 'quite good', I can assure you," insisted the elderly landlady. "She was humming to herself the day we met, and even then I could tell that God had blessed her with such a magnificent gift!"

"Is that so, Miss Campbell?" asked Basil, sending a smile of his own in my direction.

"Well..." I began again, feeling a little blush starting to cross my cheeks.

"Can you sing for us?" asked Olivia. I instantly turned back to her to see her looking up at me with an eager expression. I just hesitated again. As much as I enjoyed singing, it always made me very nervous when people asked me to sing for them. Not because I was self-conscious about my voice or anything. I did think that I sounded good sometimes, though I never thought I was the best singer in the world either. I guess that was always simply just nerves on my part, because I always felt that I enjoyed singing more whenever I decided to do it on my own accord.

"Oh yes, please do," I heard Hiram agree. I then looked around all the mice in the room, all of them eagerly waiting for me to accept the request to sing for them. It wasn't until my eyes met Basil's, filled with great intrigue though he was smiling tenderly, that I decided then just to give into them.

"All right," I finally said, not really needing to make myself smile as I stood. Closing my eyes, I could still feel their eyes fixed upon me as I mentally prepared myself to begin singing. I decided that the best way to do that was by pretending that I was alone.

To give myself the queue, I imagined the slow piano intro of the song I had decided to sing for them playing in my head before the words automatically started to flood out of my mouth, though quiet and a little shaky at first.

_I've been believing  
In something so distant  
As if I was human  
And I've been denying  
This feeling of hopelessness  
In me, in me_

I just kept playing the song in my head, now imagining the cello starting to kick in at that moment.

_All the promises I made  
Just to let you down_

At this moment, I found myself becoming completely lost in the song as my voice became louder and more steady.

_You believed in me  
But I'm broken_

I have nothing left  
And all I feel is this cruel wanting  
We've been falling for all this time  
And now I'm lost in paradise

And lost in paradise I really was then, for at that moment the band came into the song, creating the most incredible music anyone could ever hear. However, as the song went on, I couldn't help but feel myself becoming more emotional, as the words seemed to fit my current situation.

_As much as I'd like  
The past not to exist  
It still does  
And as much as I'd like  
To feel like I belong here  
I'm just as scared as you_

Yes, yes that part really _did_ speak to me now, for then I found myself suddenly thinking of my family back home, back in Scotland, back in the 21st century. How worried they all must be about me, how I was so sure now that I would never be able to go home, that I would never see them again, that I would never even be able to contact them and at least tell them I was okay. How incredibly guilty I felt about it all.

_I have nothing left  
And all I feel is this cruel wanting  
We've been falling for all this time  
And now I'm lost in paradise_

By "paradise", I wondered now if that meant for me the universe in which I was now trapped. Well, you'd think it would mean that, since I was now in the universe of my favourite Disney movie, especially since my latest fictional crush came from that movie, and that I would be very happy about being here. In a sense, I was, very happy indeed, but at the same time, very frightened and very heartbroken at having just been taken away from my family so suddenly, and still having no idea how the hell it happened in the first place.

_Run away, run away_

With all of these thoughts going through my head, I had to fight to stop the tears from escaping from my eyes as I started to really belt this part out, suddenly remembering the other mice in the room. If I started crying now, they'd wonder what the problem was, and I really didn't want to tell them what it was that was causing me so much emotional turmoil.

_One day we won't feel this pain anymore  
Take it all away  
Shadows of you, 'cause they won't let me go_

Though I still wasn't able to keep my voice from wavering a bit here, but still I sang my heart out with each and every note.

_Till I have nothing left  
And all I feel is this cruel wanting  
We've been falling for all this time  
And now I'm lost in paradise_

Alone and lost in paradise...

Upon finishing the song, I took a minute to get my breath back as my small audience started applauding me and showering me with praise.

"Bravo, bravo!"

"Splendid. Just splendid."

"Oh, that was wonderful!"

"Well done, Miss Campbell."

"Oh, how beautiful!"

Now left feeling incredibly saddened, I merely just stood there and forced a tiny smile onto my face with my head bowed a little.

"Thank you... everyone..." I said quietly. At that moment, I felt that I simply could not hold back my tears anymore, so I had to get out of there fast.

"Um, I'm a little tired," I said. "So I'm gonna just head off to bed now, if that's all right. Goodnight." Without waiting for a reply from anyone, I immediately exited the room as quickly as I could, too upset to care if I was being rude at that point. I rushed up the stairs, went through the hall and darted into my room, quickly closing and locking the door behind me as I did so. Throwing myself onto the bed, I buried my face into the pillow as I finally let my sobs out, though keeping them as quiet as I could so that no one downstairs could hear me.

~*~*~*~

I was very confused as to why Miss Campbell would suddenly just dash upstairs like that, after having just finished her song, which I have to say I really rather enjoyed. She sang it so beautifully, as if she had indeed been blessed with the voice of an angel. Though as I watched her, I couldn't help but notice a hint of sadness on her face, though she somehow managed to keep herself together until she had finished singing. As she excused herself from the room and quickly turned to go upstairs, I was certain that she looked as though she was about to cry. I couldn't be sure, but it was as if the very song itself had triggered some very unpleasant memories for her.

I was hoping that she would come back downstairs shortly to rejoin us before the Flavershams had to leave, but she didn't. So after we had shown them to the door, given them back their coats and exchanged goodbyes with them, I decided then to go up and check on her.

"Erm, Dawson, Mrs. Judson, could you two tidy up and take those few dishes to the kitchen?" I asked my friends. "I'll come in to help you shortly. But I'm a little concerned about Miss Campbell so I shall go upstairs and see if she is all right."

"No no, that's absolutely fine, Basil," replied Dawson. "I do hope she's all right."

"Thank you, Dawson," I answered before making my way up the stairs and through the hall towards the spare room which Miss Campbell was using. Stopping at the door, I listened for a few seconds as I could indeed make out the plaintive sounds of crying from within.

I knocked on the door before calling through to her, "Miss Campbell?"

"Y-yes...?" I heard her answer hesitantly on the other side, her voice was very shaky, no doubt from all the crying she had been doing. Could she really have been crying during that full hour that she had been up here?

"Are you all right, Miss Campbell?" I asked her again. "Whatever is the matter?"

I heard her let out a few more sobs before answering, "N-nothing... I'm fine. I'll be fine in a minute."

"You don't sound fine to me," I told her, indeed not at all convinced. "Miss Campbell, are you certain that you do not wish to talk about it?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure," she immediately answered, a hint of frustration could be heard in her voice now. "Now please, leave me in peace. I'd rather be alone."

I took a few seconds to think before finally answering, "Suit yourself. Goodnight, Miss Campbell."

I grew a little more worried as I heard no answer from her as I made my way back towards the staircase. Whatever it could've been upsetting her so much? Could it have been something to do with her being away from her family? Yes, yes I decided that it must've been that. But then of course, the frustration in her voice at how persistent I was. So it can't have been just that. There was definitely something else, something she was refusing to tell me. However, I decided not to aggravate her about it any longer tonight, that I would question her about it some other time. But it was also at that moment that I made another decision.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I saw my dear friend Dawson sitting upon his green chair, reading the newspaper.

"Dawson, would you kindly send a telegram to Miss Harrison first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning?" I asked him as I took my pipe out of my pocket and lit it.

"Certainly, Basil," he answered, standing from his chair and going over to the desk, presumably to write down the message which I was about to dictate to him. "What would you like me to say in it?"

"Tell her the following: 'Dear Miss Harrison, I regret to inform you that I have temporarily abandoned my search for the thief who stole the books from your library. You see, another young lady has come to me very recently with another case of much greater importance. I am loathe to share too much of it with you, for the sake of my new client's privacy, but I can tell you this much that her problem is causing her a lot of distress and I simply do not have the heart to watch her suffer for it any longer. I'm certain you will understand. But please, do not worry. As soon as this new case of mine has been solved, I promise to immediately continue you with the case which you have presented me with. Yours sincerely, Mr. Basil of Baker Street.'"

Once Dawson had finished writing my message onto the piece of paper in front of him, he turned round and looked up at me with a rather confused expression. "Basil, surely you don't mean to -"

"Yes, I do," I interrupted him, knowing what he was about to say.

"But why?" he asked.

Taking a few puffs on my pipe, I answered, "For Miss Campbell. You see, Dawson, when I went upstairs just now, I heard her crying from the spare room. She has been taken away from her family so suddenly, and she is a rather sensitive young lady, so it is very possible that she was thinking about them, and how worried they must be about her. If that is so, then I am certain that a big part of the reason for her tears is guilt."

"Guilt?" asked my friend again.

I nodded. "Guilt at not being able to communicate with them to let them know that she is still alive and well. Or so she thinks. She could very easily send them a letter or a telegram, but if she knew that, would she not have done so by now? Unless of course, it is not quite as simple as that. That is one of the mysteries about this new case which must be solved if Miss Campbell is to be returned to her family as soon as possible. A book can easily be replaced if need be, but a loved one simply cannot. Either she has still not quite yet recovered from her amnesia, or there is another factor of this case which she knows about and is simply not telling us. Either way, this case we must do by ourselves for now, which will not be easy, but hopefully it will not be impossible either."

"I must say, Basil," my friend began. "You've had quite a change of heart?"

Turning towards my friend, I merely gave him a confused look of my own in response. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he began. "Previously, you couldn't care less about returning Miss Campbell to her family and were willing to put a mere robbery case before her."

"Yes, well, I admit now that I was wrong," I answered, bowing my head slightly in regret. "However it is my every intention now to make up to her for it by doing this for her."

"Very good, Basil," smiled my friend, before laying down his pen and stretching his arms out as he yawned. "Well, I think I shall retire to my bed now too. Goodnight, Basil."

"Goodnight, Dawson," I replied as he passed me and headed upstairs to his room. After hearing his bedroom door closing, I went over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantelpiece, just staring into the glowing embers left from the fire which was now dying out as I continued to smoke my pipe.

For the next hour or so, I could not, no matter how hard I tried, for the life of me get the sound of Miss Campbell's beautiful singing voice out of my mind. Indeed, though I tried to deny it, even to myself at that moment, it was not only out of kindness and compassion that I decided to revert my attention to getting her back home as soon as I could. Yet, even then, I still didn't dare call it love, this other thing which motivated me to do so. That was another reason to want to get this case solved as soon as possible; once she was finally back home, these feelings of mine would soon surely fade.

After finishing my pipe, I knocked it against the small table next to my chair to get any excess ash out of it before picking up my violin. Placing it upon my shoulder, I closed my eyes as I began to run the bow along the strings, playing the melody of the very song which Miss Campbell had performed for us earlier on. It was always rather easy for me to memorise the melody of a song rather quickly upon my first hearing, and as I played, I floated away into a cloud of bliss as I always did when playing my violin.

~*~*~*~

Soon after Basil had went away, I was finally able to stop crying, though my face was still wet with tears and I still felt utterly miserable. Though I was very glad that Basil didn't push the subject of what was causing me to feel like this. I really hated lying to people, but at the same time, I still knew that I couldn't tell Basil, or anyone now, the truth about where I had come from. The chances are he wouldn't have believed me, and very likely have thought I was mad and have me sent to an asylum or something, which was one of the last I really wanted to happen to me now.

But it wasn't long before I heard him playing his violin downstairs either. After hearing Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson retiring to their beds, I had assumed that the Flavershams had gone home and was therefore expecting Basil to remain downstairs and eventually start playing on his beloved instrument. But what surprised me about it was that the tune he was playing on it was that of the song that I had just sung to them all earlier on.

Getting up off the bed, I walked over to the door and put my hand to it as I listened very closely to the melody coming from downstairs, the violinist not once getting a single note wrong. For a couple of seconds, I wondered how Basil could've had the whole thing memorised so quickly, but then remembered that this was a mouse who, like his human counterpart Sherlock Holmes, could tell another mouse's nationality and occupation simply by taking a quick look over their person, so it really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise to me after all. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what it was about the song I had sung that interested him so much. Could he also have memorised the words and was trying to work out what it was about it that upset me? I hoped not, though knowing him, I wasn't prepared to get my hopes up at that moment.

Suddenly feeling quite tired, I decided then to change into my night dress before climbing into bed. For a couple of minutes, I just lay there, listening to the beautiful melody as Basil continued to play it on his violin as it slowly lulled me into a peaceful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

As usual, I had gotten up the next morning earlier than all the others. And even then, I could not get the events of the previous night out of my head, particularly not the beauty of Miss Campbell's voice when she sang to us. It just haunted me the whole night, not just when I lay awake for those many hours, but in my sleep too. Even now, that I was up and getting ready to start of my new case, I couldn't simply just couldn't get it out of my mind. To me, she sounded much more beautiful than any opera singer I had heard. Even more so than...

"Good morning, Basil," came the voice of my good friend as he entered the living room.

"Oh, good morning, Dawson," I replied, merely looking up at him for a split second before immediately going back to buttoning up my Inverness coat.

There was a short pause before he asked me, "Is something wrong, old boy?"

I hesitated. He'd clearly seen the slight look of gloom that must've been on my face from all the thoughts that had been running through my head all morning when normally I'd be concentrating on a case.

"Oh, nothing..." I merely answered. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

He just raised and eyebrow as he kept his questioning gaze upon me. "You're usually quite jaunty when you get up at this time when you've got a case on your hands."

"Yes well," I began, still not really looking at him. "I didn't really get a whole lot of sleep last night."

"You never really give yourself the right amount of sleep you need anyway, Basil."

"Well..." I hesitated again, afraid that Dawson was about to find out the real reason I was acting the way I was. "I got a very unusually small amount of sleep last night, even for me."

"Come now, Basil!" said my friend, sending a teasing smile in my direction this time. "I've known you long enough to know when you're being honest and when you're hiding something, and I know for a fact now that you're hiding something. So tell me, what is it?"

"I, er..." I trailed off, trying desperately to think of a good enough excuse which would distract him from finding out the truth. But unfortunately, it was too late.

"Oh, I see," he said, his grin getting wider. "You're thinking about Miss Campbell, aren't you?"

Damn! He had found me out!

"Well, yes, I am thinking about this new case of mine," I merely told him, again evading his gaze in an attempt to conceal the blush which I could feel crossing my cheeks then, but to no avail. Looking up to him, I then added, "But I am _not_ falling in love with her if that's what you're wondering!?"

"You sure about that, Basil?" Dawson asked me again, the teasing tone in his voice had gotten clearer.

"Yes, of course I am sure!" I snapped at him. "She's my client for God's sake, and besides that she's damn near young enough to be my daughter! So I'm blessed if I know whatever gave you such an absurd impression!"

"You were the one who suggested it," he answered, chuckling.

"Yes, well, you were the first one to think it!" I answered back.

"Oh, I don't think I was..." he said, raising his eyebrow once again. "Besides, I've seen the way you've quickly warmed up to her these past few days and how you eagerly took her out for that tour around London. And also, the way you watched her as she was singing last night. One would think that you were under some kind of spell. And there's you deciding to postpone the previous case with the librarian in order to help her out of the blue. Now, if those aren't the signs of someone who has feelings for another particular mouse, then I'm blessed if I know what is."

Seeing that there was really no convincing him, I decided then just to give up.

"Look," I began, after letting out a deep sigh of frustration. "Even if I _did_ have feelings for her, I would only allow it to be a mere infatuation, nothing more. I'd soon forget about it once I have completed this case and helped her return to Scotland, where there would be plenty of suitors for her. Mice who I am certain are more worthy of her than I am."

"Oh, come now, Basil," said Dawson, now encouragingly. "What makes you think that? I'm sure that if you were to give yourself a chance, you might very well be a good enough suitor for her."

"No, I wouldn't," I answered, shaking my head sadly. "My flaws are that many, that ever if I was to court her, she would be utterly miserable and would very soon wish to leave me. And besides, because of my occupation, I'm not exactly the safest mouse for _anyone_ to be around."

"But I am sure that you'd still be able to protect her, and of course save her should she land in any trouble, wouldn't you, Basil?" asked Dawson.

"Yes, but for how long?" I pointed out. "And _would_ I really be able to save her, doctor? What if I wasn't? What if being with me got her killed? What if no matter how hard I tried, I simply just _wasn't_ able to protect her? No, Dawson. After what happened to Relda, I have promised myself never to get romantically involved with another woman. I'm sorry, Dawson. I really do appreciate what you're trying to do, but I am afraid that it is simply quite out of the question."

My friend's expression had long since changed to a sympathetic one as he listened. There was another short pause before he just nodded.

"Okay, Basil," he merely said. I could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking of saying more, but thankfully decided against it.

Putting on the best smile I could, I then decided to try and change the subject as I chirped, "Right then, we'd best be off to Mouseland Yard. Can't keep Inspector Vole waiting now, can we?"

"No, indeed we cannot," said Dawson in the same tone, clearly not convinced by my sudden "change of mood". Though I was thankful that he chose to say no more of it as he just followed me out of the front door, on our way to meet Inspector Vole at Mouseland Yard.

~*~*~*~

Some time later, I came downstairs to find Mrs. Judson already in the living room, preparing breakfast for the two of us.

"Good morning, dear," she smiled when she looked up to see me.

"Oh, good morning," I answered, yawning as I still felt a little tired. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Oh, I just thought you'd want to lie in this morning," she said, pouring a couple of cups of tea.

"Not when I'm a guest in someone's house," I told her, sitting down. "Where are Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson?"

"Oh, they're away out to Mouseland Yard to start investigating on their new case," answered the kind landlady. "Since Mr. Basil is dragging them out so early, I don't suppose either of them will be having breakfast. I should imagine the poor doctor will be famished when they come home."

"New case?" I asked, confused, as I sat down on Basil's red chair. "But what about his case with the librarian?"

"Oh, as of last night, he's decided to postpone that," she explained. "He feels that your situation is much more serious."

I immediately froze. "So... this new case of his... he's gonna try and help me get home?"

"Well, yes," she answered, smiling as she brought over a cup of tea for me. "But first, he's going to see if he can find out who it was that brought you here in the first place."

I hesitated again. I was now having mixed emotions about this. At first, I was really quite happy to hear that Basil had temporarily abandoned his original case to focus on helping me, and it made me feel warm inside. But then that warmth quickly disappeared when it dawned on me that that meant he would very likely come to question me about what had really happened to me very soon. That thought made me very uncomfortable indeed, for I was sure that if I was tell him the whole truth, he very likely wouldn't believe me. Though it wasn't very likely, I still decided to hope that a way for me to somehow return home myself would make itself known before it would come to that.

However, because this whole thing made me wonder then what the _real_reason for Basil's decision was, that also brought me to my next question: "Mrs. Judson, this is probably a little irrelevant, but I'm just curious is all. Has Mr. Basil ever been in a relationship at all with another mouse?"

Just then, as she brought over another bowl of that delicious porridge of hers, her smile immediately left her kind face and was replaced with a look of melancholy.

She sighed sadly before answering, "Well, yes, he has. But it was about ten years ago and it ended in tragedy."

I could feel my ears drooping as my heart was immediately filled with sadness at hearing this. "Oh, no. Really?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," she answered in the same saddened tone as she gave me my porridge before going over to sit a Dr. Dawson's green chair.

"What happened, Mrs. Judson?" I asked again, suddenly filled with curiosity at that point, but of course still sorry to hear that something terrible had happened to Basil and whoever his previous lover was.

She sighed again before answering, "Well, it's something I don't normally talk about with others, but since you're asking, I might as well tell you, but you have to promise not to let Mr. Basil know that I have."

"Okay, I promise," I said, nodding my head. Taking a few seconds to prepare herself, Mrs. Judson then began to tell me the sad story.

"Well, it all started ten years ago, when Mr. Basil was leading an expedition in Switzerland, to find an ancient colony that had disappeared off the face of the earth hundreds of years ago. It was during this expedition that he met a very famous opera singer. Nobody knows what her real name was, but she was well known as Mlle Relda."

Walking over to the fireplace, Mrs. Judson reached in behind the framed newspaper showing an article about Basil and Dawson being thanked by Queen Mousetoria, and pulled out a smaller framed picture. When she handed it to me, I was met with the portrait of the most beautiful lady mouse I had ever seen. Because the photograph was only in black and white, all I could make out of her that the dress she was wearing was quite dark and her fur was of a very pale colour. But there was something about her eyes which seemed so enchanting to me, that I could easily understand why Basil, well, any mouse at all really, would fall in love with her.

"She's very pretty," I said, not looking away from the photograph.

"Pretty?" Mrs. Judson repeated, but with a smile. "She was said to be the most beautiful mouse prima donna in the world. When they met, I suppose you could say, for Mr. Basil anyway, that it was love at first sight. Or first hearing, I should say, since what really attracted Mr. Basil to her was her voice. And let me tell you, Miss Campbell, Mlle Relda had the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. Really, it was just like that of an angel's. Though of course, upon their first meeting, Mr. Basil and Mlle Relda weren't exactly the best of friends, but after they both returned from the expedition, they warmed up to each other more, until they did of course build some kind of friendly relationship between them."

"But then, after a while, friends became lovers, right?" I asked.

The landlady nodded again. "Yes, that is exactly what happened, Miss Campbell. And if you ask me, the love they shared was beautiful. The two of them appeared to me to be inseparable for the longest time. It was almost as if Mr. Basil and Mlle Relda were destined to be together forever."

For a moment, Mrs. Judson's face had taken on a dreamy sort of smile, and I was sure that it was due to the fact that she must've been relishing the memories of the love affair shared between Basil and Relda, which, from what I was hearing, must've been very beautiful indeed.

"So, what happened then, Mrs. Judson?" I asked. "What happened to this perfect relationship of theirs for it to end disastrously?"

"Oh, it's too horrible," Mrs. Judson answered sadly, the smile fading back to the grieved expression she was wearing just before. "Well, it was on the night that Mlle Relda was performing in Mozart's _The Magic Flute_ that it happened. Mr. Basil always insisted on attending every opera which in which she performed because of how very much in love he was with her voice, as well as the rest of her of course. So indeed, you can imagine how unbearable it must've been for him to witness it."

"Witness what?" I asked again.

"In the middle of an aria," Mrs. Judson went on. "Mlle Relda had a fit and collapsed on stage. She had to be taken backstage, which worried everyone, her fellow actors, the stagehands, and of course the audience who were watching. Mr. Basil, who was of course was part of that audience, stopped caring about respecting the theatre rules at that point and climbed up onto the stage before rushing backstage to see her. But when he got there, he was already too late. She had succumbed to her fit within a matter of seconds. At first, he couldn't understand what it was that had killed her. She couldn't have been ill, because she was feeling just fine for that whole day and pretty much for a good long time before that. This made him suspicious of course and, upon checking the last wine glass she had drunk out of, he found traces of a kind of poison which impersonated the symptoms of tuberculosis. Enraged, Mr. Basil immediately went on a self-appointed case to try and find out who could've murdered Relda in this horrible fashion, how they had managed to sneak into the theatre and why they would do such a despicable thing. He eventually discovered that the murderer was none other than Professor Padraic Ratigan himself, who had gotten one of his henchmice to sneak into the theatre disguised as stagehand in order to pour the poison into Relda's drink."

Well, I think that the appropriate phrase to use for my feelings at that particular moment was utter shock. I was so appalled in fact, that I couldn't bring myself to bring my spoonful of porridge any closer to my mouth.

"Why?" I asked, hearing the same tone of anger in my voice that was in the landlady's just now. "Why would he do that?"

"Well," Mrs. Judson went on. "Apparently that filthy old sewer rat had been sending ruffian after ruffian to try and do away with Mr. Basil for a long time, because, even though he was only about a few years into his unofficial career as consulting detective, he had been interfered with so many of his plots in that length of time. However, when he had heard of his relationship with Mlle Relda, he thought he had finally found in her his weakness and that by murdering her, her might be able to weaken Mr. Basil mentally, making him easier to finish off."

"Though I should imagine that that didn't work, right?" I asked again hopefully.

Mrs. Judson shook her head. "No, indeed it did not. Instead, it only fed fuel to his fire and made Mr. Basil all the more determined to catch him and put him behind bars where he belonged."

"As an act of revenge?"

"Exactly," Mrs. Judson answered. "Over the years, it became an obsession with him and he would not rest properly until had brought the dirty rat to justice."

"And so, he ended up chasing him to his death, right?"

Mrs. Judson nodded. "Not intentionally, of course. I think he would've much preferred to have him imprisoned, though I can't say that Mr. Basil was sorry for his demise."

"No, I can't imagine he would be," I answered, shaking my head.

"Nope," the landlady answered, shaking her head also. "But that story is also the reason why Mr. Basil has chosen to remain as a bachelor for the rest of his life."

"Oh, really?" I asked. "And why is that?"

Mrs. Judson sighed again. "The only reason why Mlle Relda had died in the first place was because, well, her relationship with Mr. Basil wasn't exactly a secret one. And since he himself was a very famous detective, the news would've spread around fast. He had also made a lot of enemies in his time, mostly with criminals from the mouse underworld. And so, since the death of Mlle Relda, my tenant had sworn never again to allow himself to fall in love with another lady, lest she should suffer the same fate."

"I see..." I said, nodding my head in understanding.

Just then, Mrs. Judson came up to me again, presumably to take back the framed photograph she had given me. I just handed it back to her without question.

Looking sadly at said photograph, Mrs. Judson sighed again and said, "The only other mouse I had told this story to is Dr. Dawson. But since that is his friend, I am certain that Mr. Basil was all right with that. Though I'm not sure if he'd appreciate me sharing this sort of information with a client of his."

Remembering the promise I had made earlier on, I nodded my head and said, "All right, I won't tell him you told me this."

"Thank you, Miss Campbell," smiled Mrs. Judson as she slid the photograph back into its place. She then sat down on the green chair across from me.

As we finished our breakfast in silence, I just could not get the landlady's whole story out of my head. Although I had discussed the idea with my online friends that I had met in the fandom for the movie many times, I honestly had no idea that it was at all possible for Basil of Baker Street to have been in a relationship before, let alone one that ended in tragedy. I just assumed that he had taken no interest in romance at all and wished to focus only on his detective work. But at the same time, I also understood now why Basil hated Professor Ratigan so much and why chasing him down until he had him locked up became his main purpose in life.

But now, it seemed to me that I was finally getting to know my favourite Disney character for who he really was, and not just for who I at first assumed he was. I also found myself hoping then that Basil would soon allow himself to break from that stiff promise he made himself to remain a bachelor for the rest of his life, and that he would find happiness with another lady mouse one day, even if that lady mouse wasn't me. Because, let's face it, the idea of me and him together would be impossible considering the circumstances. I really wanted him to be happy and hoped that, deep down, that he hadn't really given up on love completely, like I had considered to do so many times, and that he would find that special someone of his own that would stay with him for the rest of his life and help him to forget about the painful memories of his past. And indeed, hope was all I had to go by, for, at the end of the day, nobody really knows what's ahead of them.


	7. Chapter 7

"Now then, if Mrs Judson is correct when she said that she found Miss Campbell near this very spot, then we should probably start by retracing her steps."

I was explaining this to my two most trusted colleagues, Dawson and Inspector Vole. The three of us were now back at Baker Street after meeting the latter at Mouseland Yard, and were examining the spot near my home where my landlady said she had found my client.

"That's all very well, Mr. Basil," said Inspector Vole with that usual curled upper lip of his. Motioning for the footprints in the now dry soil, he then asked in the same sarcastic tone, "But how can you be so sure that these footprints are indeed hers? They seem a little strange, no?"

I just sent him a little cheeky smirk as I reached into my satchel and pulled out the pink shoes which Mrs. Judson had given me that morning. "Observe, dear Vole," I told him as I held out the shoes for him. "That the strange pattern on the soles match the very marks in the soil in front of you."

Curiosity now filling the inspector's eyes, he came over and took the shoes from me, went over to the footprints and looked very closely between them and the shoes. He even knelt down and put one of the shoes over a print, just to make sure that my theory was indeed correct.

"Oh... I suppose these marks were indeed made by her after all," he agreed. Standing up, he then took the opportunity to take a closer look at the shoe in his hand. "A very peculiar looking thing this is, indeed," he said thoughtfully. Handing it to my friend, he then asked, "What do _you_ make of it, Dr. Dawson?"

Dawson took the shoe off him and took a closer look at it next. My friend took his glasses out of his pocket, put them on and narrowed his eyes as he inspected the shoe in his hand very closely. "Hmm... yes, indeed," he said. "I've never seen any shoes that looked like this before."

"She's obviously had them for a very long time," I decided to add in, causing the both of them to look up at me with confused expressions.

"What? How can you tell?" asked the inspector.

Walking up to Dawson, I took the shoe back off him and began to explain my theory. "Quite simple. If you look at it, you'll see that the leather is slightly cracked and the colour has become somewhat duller than it obviously should be. Also, this strange material which somehow holds these straps down has collected some dust, and the little dents in the soles also have quite a fair bit of dirt in them. This goes to show that she hadn't been taking as much care of her shoes as she should've been. And speaking of the soles, you'll notice that a large patch on this one is really quite smooth, indicating that the dents that should be there have been worn away. Obviously this young lady had done a great deal of walking in them in all the years that they have been in her possession."

"Years?" asked Vole again.

"Yes, my dear Vole," I answered. "You never see new shoes in this condition. She's obviously received them when she was a child. Not an awfully young child of course. About ten or eleven years of age, and yet they still fit her. She had obviously stopped growing several years ago, because as I'm sure you yourself have noticed, doctor, that she is a little short for an eighteen-near-nineteen-year-old."

My good friend nodded.

"Now, then," I said. "Enough about the strange shoe. I think we really need to concentrate now on finding out from these marks left by these strange shoes how their owner got here, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, of course," my friend agreed as removed his glasses and put them back onto his pocket.

Walking right up to the footprints, I said out loud to no one in particular, "I suppose we had better start by following them. By retracing Miss Campbell's steps, we should be able to go back to the spot where she woke up. Hopefully, there will be clues there as to how she ended up here in London."

Taking out my magnifying glass, I went down on all fours and examined the footprints carefully. However, as I began to follow them, something else caught my eye.

"Oh ho, what's this?" I asked aloud, as I took a closer look at the huge paw prints which accompanied the marks left by my client.

"There are also paw prints here," I said to my colleagues. "Clearly those of a cat. She must've been chased here by it."

As I followed the prints left by Miss Campbell and her attacker, I was led towards a large opening in the wall. "And she ran in here, obviously to escape it. But it clearly still tried to get her, despite her pressing herself up against the wall at the very end up there, judging by the claw marks left in the dirt."

"Oh, the poor girl!" exclaimed Dawson.

"But how did she manage to get away from it?" asked Vole.

"Here, my dear Vole, is our answer," I answered him, picking up a rusty nail I found near the opening. Examining it with my glass, I went on, "There are traces of blood on this, and if we look at the paw prints that are leaving this area, it looks as though this cat eventually staggered away. She must've used this to try and fend it off. She is a very brave young lady, is Miss Campbell. And lucky too."

"Lucky?" questioned Vole again, the sarcasm returning to his voice once more.

"That her feline chaser was so easily defeated by a mere flesh wound from a small nail," I answered him again, slightly irritably at his impudence. "Most cats are not so willing to give up on their prey so easily. Now then," I continued, returning to the footprints. "See how Miss Campbell's footprints weave in and out amongst these bushes. Before seeking temporary refuge in that opening behind us, she must've hoped to lose her enemy by hiding in amongst them, only to discover that the creature still had it sense of smell to guide it to its prey."

As I followed these weaving footprints, I was a little perturbed to find that they ended just before coming to the concrete pavement outside. "The footprints end here," I said. Though remembering something else just at the moment, I went on, "Though Miss Campbell did say that she woke up in an alleyway across the road from here, didn't she?"

"You mean, over there?" asked Dawson. As I turned back to face him, I saw him pointing towards an alleyway away on the street across the road.

"Indeed, Dawson," I replied my friend. "That is more than likely where she had woken up. Come!"

Just then, the three of us dashed across the road, careful not to get crushed under the feet of passing humans, the hooves of horses or even the wheels of hansom cabs, until we were finally safe again in the alleyway to which my friend was pointing.

Looking around, I said to my two colleagues, "Now, as small as this place may be to humans, it's still an enormous one for us little mice, so searching for clues may take some time. I suggest we split up."

"Split up?" asked Vole. "But exactly are we suppose to find?"

"Just search for anything unusual," I told him. "Anything at all which you normally wouldn't find in an alleyway. Meet me in the middle once every corner has been thoroughly searched."

My two colleagues groaned in response, but I paid no heed to them as I just dashed off to begin my search. Occasionally, I sank to my knees and searched the ground for any clues which would indicate anything as to how Miss Campbell had arrived here; patches of dirt with footprints in them, a note which might've been placed on her person but fallen off when she stood, anything at all which might help us. Though unfortunately, during my search, which took about an hour, I was unable to find anything useful.

"Did you find anything?" I asked my two colleagues when we finally met in the middle of the alleyway.

Dawson shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, Basil," he replied sadly.

I then turned to Vole and he too just shook his head. "Nothing," he said apologetically. "You are sure this was the alley where she regained consciousness, Basil?"

"She did say that it was in an alley across the road from Baker Street," I reminded him, slightly irritably. "And this is the only one across the road close enough where she would have enough energy to run from to get there, especially with an alley cat chasing her. Now you're both certain that you didn't find anything at all?"

They both immediately nodded their heads. I just sighed out of frustration.

"This is not good..." I said. "Without any more clues as to finding out exactly how Miss Campbell got here, I'm afraid this case has come to a complete standstill."

"Are you certain she's told you _everything_ she could remember, Basil?" asked Vole.

"Hm... possibly not quite everything..." I answered thoughtfully, remembering Miss Campbell's strange behaviour the night before. "It looks as though I may very well have to question her further if we ever hope to make any more progress with the case."

"But, Basil, are you sure she'll talk?" asked Dawson.

"Perhaps not entirely willingly," I told him. "If the worst comes to the worst, then a little persuasion may be in order."

Turning to Vole, I then put my hand on his shoulder and said to him, "Thank you very much for your help today, Vole. But I'm afraid there is not much more you can do, so you may return to Mouseland Yard now."

"Help?" he asked again, raising an eyebrow. "We didn't really do much. All we did was look at some footprints and search an empty alleyway for clues that weren't even there."

"Well, it's a start," I told him. "Until next time, then."

The inspector just hesitated, looking between me and Dawson before just shrugging and walking off.

"Right then, Dawson," I said to my friend, turning to face the direction of the street. "Back to Baker Street."

~*~*~*~

Basil and Dr. Dawson had been away for about an hour. During that time, Mrs. Judson and I had finished our breakfast, washed the dishes and put them away, and I was now helping her tidy up the bedrooms. At first, I wondered if that was even proper, but she told me that Basil and Dr. Dawson were okay with her tidying their rooms for them when they weren't in. We were now in Basil's room, and I was helping pick up some old newspaper articles and putting them away into one of the drawers next to the detective's bed when I heard a cry of surprise coming from the landlady. This caused me to nearly jump out of my skin and drop the papers in my hand.

"Something wrong?" I asked her. She was standing over at the cupboard, flicking through the numerous articles of clothing hanging inside.

"That's very odd," she said. "One of Mr. Basil's coats is missing."

"Really?" I asked again, confused as I put the papers down and went over beside her. "How can you tell?"

"Well, normally he has about ten spare Inverness coats," she explained, counting through them all. "But now, there are only nine."

As she moved over to let me in, I counted the coats and also saw that there was indeed one less coat there than there should be. "That's very weird," I agreed. "Do you think maybe he's lost it somehow?"

"Oh, Mr. Basil would never misplace anything of his," she told me, shaking her head. "He's much too clever for that."

"Hm, good point," I answered thoughtfully. "Do you think we should tell him when he and the doctor get back?"

"He may still be concentrating on his case by then," she told me. "But yes, I do believe it would be worth bringing to his attention."

Choosing not to worry about it for now, we just carried on with our tidying until, eventually, we heard the front door opening downstairs.

"Oh, goodness!" she cried. "That must be them now!" We both walked quickly out of the room, made our way through the hall and descended the stairs to meet them in the sitting room. At some point, I heard Basil calling out to Mrs. Judson.

"Coming, Mr. Basil, coming!" she called back to him, just before we entered the sitting room. Mrs. Judson alone approached the pair to greet them and help them with their coats. I just stopped at the bottom of the stairs, afraid to make my presence known to them, for I saw a look of great confusion and disappointment on Basil's face. I feared that that would be a sign that he hadn't found anything in his new case which would help him, which meant that he may come back to question me further about it, something I really didn't want.

"Well, boys," Mrs. Judson began, helping the two mice out of their coats. "How did it go then?"

"I'm afraid we didn't make much progress today, Mrs. Judson," said Dr. Dawson sadly.

"No clues then?" she asked again, taking said coats and hanging them up on the hatstand behind the doctor's green chair.

"Not a single one." It was Basil who answered this time. "I just don't understand it at all."

My fears were confirmed. Basil had not found anything on his own which would aid him in his task to get me home. Feeling my heartbeat quickening slightly, I took a couple of steps back as quietly as I could so as not to draw attention to myself. However, my hopes of not being noticed were in vain, for at that moment, Basil then turned in my direction. When his gaze met mine, his eyes immediately became fixed upon me. I instantly froze, now waiting for him to request a moment with me alone. If required, I would have to think quickly on the spot if I could come up with a believable enough excuse to deny that request. Thankfully, I was saved when Mrs. Judson quickly changed the subject.

"Mr. Basil, have you noticed at all that one of your Inverness coats is missing?" she asked him.

At that, Basil quickly turned his gaze from me and looked down at Mrs. Judson. "What?" he asked, surprised.

"Well, come and see for yourself!" she told him, quickly running past me and up the stairs. Basil and Dr. Dawson followed suited just as quickly. For a couple of seconds, I just stood where I was as I let out a deep sigh of relief.

_That was close_, I thought to myself before deciding to follow the other three mice upstairs. When I entered Basil's room, I saw them all standing at the open cupboard, looking inside.

"This is very odd indeed," said Basil, his eyes narrowed as he held his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "Last time I checked, all ten of them were definitely there."

"When was that?" asked Dr. Dawson.

"Just last night, actually," answered Basil.

"You sure you didn't just misplace it somewhere?" I asked him, stepping forward.

"I never misplace things, Miss Campbell," he answered. "Though I dare say it will be worth searching for it."

And with that, the four of us began to search throughout the entire flat for Basil's missing coat. During this search, I couldn't help but feel it rather strange that Basil, who usually cares about things more important than a missing coat, would have us searching his entire home for it when he could just as easily go to his tailor and ask him to make him a new one. However, I decided not to say anything about it and just continued the search. Though despite the fact that we pretty much went through all the rooms in the flat, the bedrooms, the sitting room, the kitchen, even the hall upstairs, there was simply just no sign of a tenth coat anywhere.

"I just don't understand it," said Dr. Dawson, scratching his head in a confused manner once we had decided to give up. "How can a coat just disappear into thin air like that?"

"It's very strange..." agreed Mrs. Judson. Basil just looked around the room, the confused and slightly annoyed expression having returned to his face, until something on the floor seemed to catch his eye and he sent another fixated gaze in that direction. Kneeling down, he began to examine that particular spot more closely.

"What are you looking at, Mr. Basil?" I asked him.

"These footprints here..." he said aloud, not taking his eyes away from the dark footprints now rather obvious to me on the carpet. "These could only have been made last night." Putting a finger to one of them, he then added. "They're still a bit damp. One can only assume they were made when we had all gone to bed."

"But that's impossible!" cried Mrs. Judson. "There was no break-in last night. I certainly didn't see any signs of one anyway."

"That's because you weren't looking for one, Mrs. Judson," answered Basil, as he crawled along the floor, following the footprints which seemed to be leading out of his room. To me, he looked a bit like a hound sniffing for the desired scent. When he had turned round the corner, the three of us followed him into the hall outside and saw him on his feet, but bent forward, still following footprints which ran the whole length of the hall. If that wasn't strange enough, Basil continued down the stairs, and we followed still, until we found him back on all fours at the kitchen entrance.

Mr. Basil...?" I asked him again. "What is it...?"

"Shh, shh!" was his answer as he held a hand out to me as a gesture for me to be quiet. I did was I was told and remained silent as I watched him examining the kitchen tiles very closely. "Aha... wet marks on the floor, and they are indeed also footprints."

Just then, he began to crawl the whole way through the kitchen until he went into a small room beyond it. Yet again, we followed him into that room. When we entered, we saw him standing at a door at the end, which had been bolted shut.

"Well, the footprints end here," he said thoughtfully. "Well, they end _inside_this building anyway." Pulling the bolt back, he opened the door and poked head out. He took a quick look around before coming back in and closing the door.

"Sadly, there are no footprints out there," he said. "No matter. I believe I have solved this little mystery now."

"You have?" I asked him, confused.

"Yes," he answered, turning to face us all. Addressing the three of us now, he went on. "Remember our friend from the Harrison case?"

"You mean the one who broke into her library and stole those books?" asked Dr. Dawson.

"Exactly, Dawson!" he told him. "I fear he has struck again. Or at least some other mouse who uses the same methods of breaking in he does. And this time, it is _I_ who has been robbed."

"But, you can't mean to say that _he_ was was the one who has stolen your coat, surely!" retorted the good doctor in disbelief.

"There's no two ways about it, doctor," answered the detective. "The method he used to escape unnoticed is obviously the exact same one he did the night he robbed Miss Harrison's library. And anyway, we have no way of knowing whether he is alone or part of a gang."

"But what could he possibly want with your coat?" asked Mrs. Judson.

"I have no idea, Mrs. Judson," said Basil. "But whatever reason he has for taking it, the fact remains that whoever it is that is responsible for last week's robbery is now aware that I am on the case and is more than likely now carrying out some sort of plot of revenge against me."


	8. Chapter 8

Both Basil's cases had, by now, come to a complete standstill. This was due to the fact that despite the incident with the footprints all over the house, he had no more clues to help him investigate either of them. Well, at least he wouldn't without questioning me further about how I had really gotten here in the first place. A few times, he had actually asked me if my memory had improved at all, but I always just said no and quickly changed the subject before he could ask me any more questions. I could tell that he knew I was just dodging his interrogations, for I could see frustration, which he was clearly fighting to conceal every time. Though thankfully, he never said anymore after that. Though how long that would last, I had no idea, but I knew that it wouldn't last forever, that he'd have to try and force my secret out of me eventually.

It wasn't that I enjoyed frustrating him like that at all, far from it. I felt really bad for hiding everything from him, and I really hate lying to others if I could avoid it. I was just so afraid of what he would think, or worse, what he would do, if he was to find out the truth. What was worse, as time went by, I was so sure that he would eventually, if a way for me to get back to the 21st Century on my own wouldn't make itself known before then. Sadly, by now, it wasn't looking like it, and as each day passed, I was getting more and more apprehensive about the whole thing.

"Shame about your two cases, Mr. Basil," said Mrs. Judson eventually, gathering up our dirty dishes onto a tray. "This must be the first time this sort of thing has happened to you."

"Yes, well," he answered, taking a few puffs from his pipe. "There are times when the required evidence won't just pop up on its own, Mrs. Judson. I'm sure that if I dig deep enough, I'll be able to uncover at least some of the answers I'll need to solve them."

As he said this, he turned to face me with a rather stern expression. Though I tried so hard to hide it, I'm pretty sure he saw the slightly worried look which must've appeared on my face at that moment. I knew Basil would've been awfully good at detecting signs like that as well, amongst many other things and I was never really any good at hiding my emotions either anyway. Even after I had turned my head away from him to stare at the fireplace, I could still feel his eyes fixed upon me, making me even more uncomfortable.

"I'm sure some kind of clue will come up eventually," the landlady replied, as she was taking her tray full of dishes away into the kitchen to get washed. "They always do."

Just then, desperately needing a reason to get out of the sitting room and away from Basil's piercing gaze, I stood up and began to follow Mrs. Judson into the kitchen. "Oh, Mrs. Judson," I said to her. "Allow me to come in and help you with those."

"Oh no, don't be silly, Miss Campbell," she smiled. "I'm sure I can manage them myself."

"I know," I answered. "But I still think it's a shame for you to have to do them all by yourself."

"Well, all right, if you insist," she said as we both went into the kitchen together.

Though just before I entered, I couldn't curb the urge to stop and take a last glance back at Basil. I immediately regretted it however, as I saw he still had his eyes on me, and the sternness of his face had deepened a little. I could only send an apologetic look back to him in return, because I knew how annoyed he must've been getting with me for constantly refusing to tell him all I knew. After a few seconds, I turned back round and went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Judson had already started to run the water in the sink.

~

"I must say, it's very kind of you to always be helping me with washing the dishes, tidying up and everything else since you've been here, Miss Campbell," Mrs. Judson said to me, just as we were putting the now clean and dry dishes away in their proper places.

"Yeah, well," I began, putting a pile of plates away into the cupboard where they were kept. "I know I'm just a guest here, Mrs. Judson, but I wouldn't feel right if I just sat around all day while you did all the hard work on your own. And besides, it's the least I can do for you letting me stay with you all until I can find a way to go home."

"Suit yourself," she said, nodding as she was putting away some cutlery in a drawer. "Still, I really do appreciate it. But, Miss Campbell, I must ask you, have you not yet contacted your family at all, to at least assure them that you are safe? I mean, I can only imagine how worried they must be about you."

I just froze and looked at her. Indeed, I hadn't contacted my family. Why not? Because there was no way for me to do so. They were still in the 21st Century, and I had somehow been taken back to the late Victorian era, before normal homes each had a telephone in them, and my own phone wasn't on my person when I had woke up in this era. It would also have been useless to send them a letter or a telegram, because the address that I'd be sending them to wouldn't have been occupied by them yet. Heck, my parents weren't even born until the early 1960s, so there'd be no way that they could be living there now, could they? All of this, of course, I could not tell Mrs. Judson, because the very likelihood that she wouldn't believe me, either.

Just as I had started to try and come up with a believable answer, the two of us immediately almost jumped out of our skins when we heard a loud _crash!_right next to us. Turning to face the direction of the sound, we saw to our shock that the window was now broken, shards of broken glass now scattered all over the counter and the floor. But what was most surprising was that in amongst the glass that was on the floor was a very peculiar looking white object. Picking it up and feeling that it was a little heavy, I knew right away that it was some kind of message wrapped around a rock.

"What's this?" I asked, removing the string which held the message around the rock, followed by the actual sheet of paper itself. Mrs. Judson came right up beside me and adjusted her glasses as we both began to read the message. To my absolute horror, it said, in rather neat, fancy writing:

_Enjoy your time with him while you still can, my dear. For both your days together are numbered._

Once the message had sunk in, I immediately began to tremble, my heart rate began to rapidly increase in speed, my breathing became erratic and I started to feel hot and cold at the same time. All this was due to the full realisation of my situation now sinking in. Clearly, I wasn't the only one who knew my secret, and what was worse, whoever this person who shared my knowledge was, had been watching me every step of the way and was now threatening me with violence, possibly even murder.

"What was that?" I heard Basil's voice from behind us as he and Dawson's footsteps were soon heard running into the kitchen. Obviously, they had heard the window breaking from the sitting room. "Is everything all right?"

I turned round to face the detective and saw deep concern written all over his face. He then turned to face me also, and his expression got even deeper when he saw what must've been the look of sheer horror I was feeling inside. Then he looked down slightly and I knew then that he must've seen the letter in my hand. When he looked back up at me and opened his mouth to speak, I immediately pushed past him and ran out of the kitchen, into the sitting room and rushed up the stairs, ripping up the letter and scattering the pieces away as I went.

"Miss Campbell!" I heard Basil calling behind me. His voice didn't seem to be becoming distant, meaning that he was following me, which was something I really didn't want. "Miss Campbell! Come back here!"

Although I could still here concern in his voice, I could hear a little hint of anger in there as well. I knew then that this would be another chance for him to try to interrogate me. Tears began to fall from my eyes as I ran through the hall and approached my bedroom door.

"Miss Campbell! Please!" I heard Basil shouting again.

"Just leave me alone, Basil!" I almost sobbed back to him as I began to turn the knob, only to feel strong hands grab me by the shoulders. Without having any time to register what was happening, I was spun round and met with Basil staring me down with a look of concern mixed with frustration.

"Miss Campbell, what did that message say?" he asked me sternly. But I couldn't speak for all the sobbing that had started to overtake me, so I just shook my head.

"What did it say, Miss Campbell?" he asked again, getting more angry. "Tell me at once!"

"I-I..." I stuttered quietly, still unable to speak properly. "I c-can't..."

"Tell me!" the detective yelled this time, shaking me almost violently. "What did it say!?"

"I CAN'T TELL YOU, BASIL!" I screamed.

"Why not!?" he shouted back.

I didn't answer, but only continued to ball my eyes out as I remained locked in Basil's firm grip.

"Now, you listen to me, Miss Campbell," Basil began quietly, though quite harshly. "All I want to do is help you, but I can't if you keep insisting on hiding everything from me. Now I know for a fact that you're not quite so amnesiac, not anymore anyway. It's very plain to me now that you know more than you are telling me. So I am only going to ask you once more time. Tell me what that message said. In fact, tell me everything, all you remember."

"I can't, I tell you!" I wailed. "I can't remember anything! Anything at all! So, don't ask me anymore, please!"

"TELL ME!" he shouted one last time.

"I CAN'T!" I screamed back, so loud that I thought my vocal chords would start to bleed.

Thankfully, Basil didn't continue try and persuade me further. Instead, he just loosened his grip slightly as I hung my head and my arms, continuing to cry. For a while, as I cried, I didn't even dare to look up at him again, fearing that he may have still had that look of anger on his face. Of course, that was until the most unexpected thing happened next.

"Iona..."

Surprised at hearing the very formal detective addressing me by my first name all of a sudden, I looked up at him. I could barely see his face through the tears that were still flooding in my eyes at that point, though I could still see that his expression had become much softer and less oppressive. If that wasn't confusing enough, he immediately leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. My heart, of course, was still beating rapidly, but now it was doing so for a completely different reason. I wasn't offended or disgusted or anything by his sudden action, but I still found it very shocking that Basil of Baker Street, of all mice, was now kissing me! I really didn't have much time to register it either before he pulled away and looked down at me.

"Mr. Basil...?" No matter how speechless I was at that moment, I still couldn't stop that little sentence from coming out of my mouth.

"Miss Campbell, I..." he began but trailed off, looking a little bit shocked himself at what he had just done. Then he just looked away from me, a light shade of red starting to appear on his cheeks. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have done that."

I knew then that I wasn't the only one keeping a secret from anyone. Basil had one that he refused to tell me as well, and it wasn't what happened to his lost love, Relda over a decade ago. I could tell he was then trying to pretend that nothing weird had just happened, but of course, by then, it was too late. I already knew what his secret was; over the two weeks that we had known each other, Basil had been falling in love with me.

Reaching a hand up, I touched his cheek and turned his face back towards me. As I just stared up at him, not taking my eyes off him for a second, I saw all the embarrassment in his face and eyes slowly fading, only to be replaced by sheer tenderness and love. Leaning up, I closed my eyes, letting the last of my tears fall free, and kissed the detective on the lips. He didn't appear to be resisting me. In fact, I felt him returning my kiss as he wrapped his arms around my waist. In return, I wrapped mine around his neck as our kiss deepened and became more passionate. It was during this moment that I felt all the fear and horror that was in my heart quickly leaving me until I felt completely calm and blissful. In fact, at that moment, I had completely forgotten all about the threatening letter I had just received, read and ripped up. Just now, the only thing that was on my mind was this moment I was sharing with the very person I never thought I would: Basil of Baker Street, the mouse detective of my dreams.

"Miss Campbell, please!" Basil said as he pulled away from me all too suddenly. "We need to stop this. It's not right."

"But, why, Basil?" I asked him. "What's wrong?"

"We can't do this," he just said. "It's not proper for us to be together."

"Why not?" I asked again.

"Well, for one thing," he began. "You're my client. It would be very unprofessional of me to court one of my clients. Also, I'm no longer as young as I once was. In fact, I am so much older than you are and -"

"You're not _that_ much older than me, Basil," I said to him. "You're only in your early thirties."

"All the same, it just plain wouldn't be right," he argued. "I am so sorry, Miss Campbell, but we just can't be together. It would be very wrong."

"So then, why did you kiss me just now?" I asked him.

Basil just hesitated. He turned away from me slightly as if trying to think of a suitable answer. Eventually, he answered, but in a sort of unsure tone, "You were hysterical and I had to calm you down somehow."

I wasn't entirely convinced by his answer, of course, because it sounded to me like an excuse he had just made up on the spot. And I wasn't afraid to let him know that either.

Taking his hand into mine, I just looked up into those beautiful jade green eyes of his as I told him, "There are plenty of other ways you could've done that, Basil. You should know that yourself." Touching his cheek again, I went on, "I love you, Basil. I have done for a very long time now. Even _before_ I met you, I loved you. I know it must seem ridiculous, but from seeing pictures of you and all that, I've definitely felt an attraction to you. Call it a mere infatuation if you will, because at the time, that's all it was, really. But now that I've met you in person and have gotten to know you as a mouse and not just a detective, I can definitely honestly say without fear of contradiction that I truly, deeply love you."

Just then, I could feel Basil curling his fingers around mine, and I knew instantly that he was giving up fighting his feelings for me. He just stared straight into my eyes, the look of love and passion had returned to his own.

"I love you too... Iona," he whispered to me. I smiled up at him then and leaned up for another passionate kiss.

~*~*~*~

He chuckled sinisterly to himself as he watched the two lovers in the glowing image in front of him smooching away. Yes, he did want the girl for himself, but knowing that she and the detective had now fallen deeply love with each other still amused him to no end. Just as he had thought she would, the girl was now proving to be rather useful to the wicked plan that was now slowly starting to unfold. He turned away and waved his arm, causing the image to vanish. Taking a sip of wine, red as blood, from the glass in his hand, he continued to fantasise about how, with the girl's help, he would carry out his revenge upon the detective. However, those fantasies were soon interrupted when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in!" he called, now rather annoyed. The door opened and Neville, one of his henchmen, entered with a smug expression on his face.

"What is it, Neville?" asked the professor, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

"The message has been sent to the girl, boss," gloated Neville. "Just as have told me to."

"You think I don't know that, Neville?" the professor answered, now getting quite angry. "Do you not think that after having learned the ability to see what our little friend is doing that I'd be taking advantage of that and would therefore be watching her every move at this very moment, like I am almost every minute? I have just witnessed for myself her receiving our little message! And what's more I have just witnessed absolute undeniable proof that that meddling pipsqueak is indeed in love with her!"

"Oh, he is, is he?" replied Neville, the wicked smile that had diminished during that handful of verbal abuse he was getting from his master now returning to his face. "So what do you plan to do now?"

"Oh, that's quite easy," smirked the professor, taking another sip of wine. "Now that the first couple of steps in my plan have already been taken, I am now certain, beyond all doubt, that young Miss Campbell will prove to be very vital in this little plan of mine. Indeed, as far as I know, with her help, this plan will be utterly flawless and by the time I'm finished with Basil, I'll be sitting on the throne of Mousedom in no time. And, if Miss Campbell gives an exceptionally excellent performance, then I may very well reward her with a place beside me."

"Ooh, how exciting," said Neville, unable to stop the chuckling from escaping him from his sheer delight. "But can you really be sure that she'll co-operate, boss?"

"Oh, a little persuasion might be in order," the professor smiled. "But all, the same, I'm sure I'll have her under my control pretty soon if not straight away. Now then, what say we all give our two lovebirds a few more days together before I send you and a few other of my best mice to pay Miss Campbell a little visit?"

Knowing all too well what the professor meant by "a little visit", Neville just started to chuckle again. "Heh heh heh, no problem, boss," he smirked.

"Excellent," answered the professor. "Now kindly leave me in peace. I wish to be alone for the rest of the evening."

"Righto, professor!" And with that, the little thug turned and left the professor's study, closing the door behind him. Said professor then walked over to the fireplace and stared at the little voodoo doll modelled after the insufferable second rate detective sitting on his mantelpiece, with all those little needles stuck in it. He chuckled wickedly at the sight.

"Oh, I'm afraid the pain you are soon about to feel will be much worse than that, dear Basil," he said, gesturing to said needles. "But not to worry, my friend. It won't last for very long, for I shall soon have my revenge at long last. And by the time I am finally through with you, your sweet little flower will be mine."

Once he had finished that little speech, he began to cackle uncontrollably, the wicked thoughts now going through his head giving him so much euphoria.


	9. Chapter 9

I got up very early the next morning. I hadn't been able to sleep too well because yesterday's events continued to haunt my thoughts. The threatening letter that was thrown through the kitchen window, and of course... the kiss that me and Basil shared. Even now, I still couldn't be sure whether that had actually happened or if I was just dreaming it, even during what little sleep I had managed to get. I knew Basil was willing to protect me from whoever it was that wished to harm me. So was my mind, during that short period of sleep, just taking that knowledge to extremes? I had no way of knowing, and it was something which would bother me for ages. Or so I thought.

Because of how badly I had struggled to sleep, I soon gave up when I saw the thin strip of sunlight trying to get in through the small crack between the bedroom curtains. So I got up, put a on dressing gown over my night dress and decided to go downstairs to get myself some breakfast. I opened the door as slowly as I could, thankful that it didn't creak, and stepped out into the hall. I was just about to make my way towards the bathroom to get myself washed, when out the corner of my eye, I saw that the door to Basil's room as slightly ajar. Quietly as I could, so as not to wake anyone in the house, I tiptoed up to it slowly pushed it open some more and saw to my surprise that Basil's bed was empty. At first I thought that I shouldn't really be surprised at that, knowing that Basil never really allowed himself as much sleep as he should. However, I then remembered what happened between us the night before and began to wonder if it was bothering him as well. But then of course, that led me to my next mental question: Did it really happen then?

Wanting to be sure, I then began to tiptoe through the hall and slowly descended the stairs. I went into the living room and sure enough, there was Basil, standing at the window, puffing away on his pipe as he just stared out onto the streets.

"Mr. Basil...?" I asked, a little apprehensively.

He turned back to face me and a light smile appeared on his lips before he let out a small chuckle. "My dear," he said. "As of last night, there is no longer any need for formalities between us."

That confirmed it. "Oh, so then..." I began, though still a little unsure. "It_wasn't_ a dream then?"

Basil just sighed and shook his head as he turned round and came down the few stairs. "No, I'm afraid it wasn't," he answered solemnly as he put his pipe down on a coffee table before sitting down onto the couch. Looking up at me, his light smile returned to his face as he patted the space next to him. "Come and sit with me, Iona."

I just hesitated. This was definitely a side of Basil I had previously only seen in fanfiction written by my friends back in the 21st century, and one I never thought I would ever see in the actual canon, never mind in real life. So to be honest, I actually found it a bit strange to see Basil showing this type of affection to any woman at all, never mind myself. Although, I also found it rather quite cute as well. So, returning his smile with one of my own, I obeyed his request and took a seat next to him on the couch. Leaning into him so that my head was resting against his chest, I just closed my eyes as I just listened to the steady beating of his heart. I was then aware of him wrapping his arms around me, taking me into a warm embrace. For a moment, we both just sat there in total silence, enjoying this moment between us until Basil finally spoke again.

"Nice though this is, Iona," he began, now gently stroking my hair. "We mustn't let anyone else see us like this."

"No one else at all?" I asked him, looking up at him in surprise. "Not even Dr. Dawson or Mrs. Judson."

Basil just chuckled again. "No no, that would be fine if they saw us," he said. "I'm talking about in public."

At first, I was confused as to why Basil would want to keep our relationship a secret from the rest of the world. Though that was until I remembered what had happened to Relda, his previous girlfriend from years ago, so I just smiled. "Okay, Basil," I replied, nodding.

At that, Basil just looked at me, but his smile didn't leave his face. "I take it you must know about Relda then, do you?" he said.

I looked up at him, feeling a little nervous this time. "Y-yes..." I stammered. I knew that he must've made that deduction from my not being very surprised at him not wanting anyone to know about us and I must've appeared to him to be very understanding as well. "Mrs. Judson told me the day you and Dr. Dawson began this new case. Please don't be angry with her, Basil," I pleaded, remembering what the landlady had also told me about Basil such personal information being shared with a client of his, especially if he wasn't there to protest.

But his smile just got a little wider as he took my hand into his own. "It's all right, my dear," he answered reassuringly. "I suppose now you would've found out sooner or later anyway. So I'm actually glad that she told you about it. It saved me the heartache of doing so myself at any rate."

I smiled again, feeling very glad that the detective wasn't angry with his landlady for sharing such a thing with me without his permission. However, as I rested my head against him again, I soon began to feel bad for him. From his last sentence, I thought then that he must still have been affected by such a painful memory from his past, even if it did happen about a decade ago. "I'm so sorry, Basil," I said quietly to him.

I was then aware of him just shaking his head. "My dear, what's in the past is in the past," he replied. "However, it is because of that that I really must insist that we keep this affair of ours a secret, lest the same thing should happen to you. True the monster that was responsible for Relda's murder has been dead for months. Though that does not mean to say there will be equally despicable rodents out there who would no doubt hate me enough to wish to harm me or even those who I love."

"I understand," I answered, my voice barely a whisper.

"Thank you, my dear," he replied. Then there was another period of silence before he said, "You must forgive me for shouting at you last night, Iona."

I just shook my head. "That's long forgotten about, Basil," I told him. And it was true, I didn't think about it at all since the moment he first caught my lips with his. I really couldn't find it in my heart to blame him. He was after all just doing his duty as the world's only consulting mouse detective.

He lifted my hand towards his mouth and gave it a soft kiss before saying, "I'm very glad to hear that, love. But all the same, I won't harass you to tell me all you remember about how you were brought here anymore, or even what it said in that letter. I shall let you come to me on your own accord from now on."

Just then, I felt tears beginning to form in my eyes and a lump starting up in my throat, as I fought to stop myself from crying. I failed however and the tears left my eyes as the first sob broke free from within me, leaving me utterly powerless to stop the rest from coming. Obviously hearing this, and feeling my body jerking with said sobs, the detective put his hand to my cheek and lifted my head so I was now facing him. I opened my eyes, looked up at him and my heart began to tremble as I saw in his jade green eyes that same look of love and tenderness that I had seen the night before. Before I knew what was happening, he leant forward and gently pressed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes as I eagerly returned his kiss. It silenced my sobbing, yes, but my body still shook from the need to just let it all out. Basil calmed me down however as he ran a gentle hand up and down my back. The touch from the tips of his fingers was very light and very soothing. Soon, too soon, we parted and he just sent that loving look down at me once more.

"And I shan't force you to tell me the reason for these tears either," he whispered.

Feeling very thankful for that, I laid my head against his chest once more as I just allowed my cries to free themselves from inside me. Basil didn't tell me that classic, "Don't cry" line, or even try to shush me. In fact, he didn't say a word or make a sound. He just held me close to him, his embrace quite tight, though not too tight thankfully, as he started stroking my hair again.

The truth was, I _did_ want to tell him why I was crying, but I didn't think I'd be able to speak anymore as I was struggling terribly to keep my cries under control. It was because right now, I was feeling a strong mixture of emotions from all of this. At first, I was very happy that my wish to some day find love had finally come true. And even better, it was with Basil of Baker Street, the fictional character on whom I had had a crush. However, that happiness quickly faded as I remembered the circumstances.

If indeed it _was_ possible for me to return home, to the year 2012, that would mean leaving Basil behind in the fictional world created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and then later adapted by Eve Titus. So, yes, returning to the real world would mean being reunited with my friends and family, who I had missed so much since the moment I woke up in that alleyway. Though at the same time, it would very likely mean that Basil and I would never see each other again, and I would end up going back to the misery of being single, with hardly any shred of hope of finding love with another. I didn't even dare myself to hope to never be able to return home, because that would mean never seeing my family and friends again as well. I began to wish so badly that I could have both them _and_ Basil in my life, but I knew I couldn't.

The more I thought about this dilemma of mine, the more the sobs kept coming. So when I did summon up the courage to say something, I was only barely able to choke out, "I love you, Basil."

Basil responded by placing a loving kiss to my forehead. "I love you too, my dear Iona," he whispered softly to me.

After that, I had to let my cries out a little while longer, until I felt that they were well and truly out as my body soon began to relax. For a few minutes, I just sat there, leaning against Basil and locked in his warm embrace. Soon, I felt myself becoming more and more tired until eventually, I was aware of being engulfed in the blackness of sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the circumstances of my current situation, the next few days that passed were the happiest I had ever known. Basil didn't have a case during those few days, so he was able to stay at home with me, Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson. Though, mostly me. Yes, we did agree to keep our relationship a secret from the rest of the world, for my own safety, neither of us saw any need to hide it from our two friends, who were not only accepting of it all, but were also very happy for us.

Over time, Basil also seemed to be growing happier with his feelings for me. He seemed to have forgotten all about the reasons he told me we could never be, the fact that I was his client or the somewhat large age gap between us. He never mentioned Relda anymore either. From that evening he kissed me, he no longer treated me like a stranger, or a client, or even a friend. Instead, he began to treat me like a lover. I too, was so happy that I'm afraid to admit that I had completely forgotten about the reasons I had that I could never be with Basil. These reasons were, of course, my family and friends back in the year 2012, the fact that he was just a mere fictional character to me, and that he was a mouse. I had also completely forgotten about the threatening letter that I received a few days ago.

The both of us were just so caught up in our whirlwind of romance that nothing else in the world seemed to matter. However, sadly, no periods of happiness and bliss last forever. As they say, all good things must come to an end, and after a few days of said happiness and bliss, it most certainly did.

~

Eventually, Basil had received an urgent telegram from his previous client, Rosemary Harrison's brother, telling him that she had been mysteriously and brutally murdered, and that he had found her in the library that morning. The news shocked us all, and Basil and Dawson immediately put their coats on and went to the door. Walking up to him, I took hold of his hand.

"Please promise me that you'll be careful, Basil," I said to him, staring deeply into his eyes. Despite my certainty that many of Basil's cases would've involved murderers, I was still getting very nervous for his safety.

Staring back down at me, Basil smiled and put his hand to my cheek. "Don't worry, my love," he said reassuringly. "I'm _always_ careful when on a case."

Forcing a smile onto my own face in an attempt to cover up my growing anxiety, I leaned up to him and we both shared a light kiss before Basil pulled away.

"Goodbye, Iona," he said.

"Goodbye, dear," I replied, before watching as the detective quickly turned away and went out the door with Dr. Dawson. I followed them to the doorway and kept watching as the duo rushed up to a hansom cab that was parked outside the above address of 221B. I didn't even take my eyes off them to look at the two humans, who I was certain anyway were Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, getting into said cab. Luck was with their tiny impersonators when the human sleuth asked the cabby to take them to Oxford Street. The two mice jumped up onto the step of the cab, but just before it took off, Basil turned back to face me and gave me one last reassuring smile as he waved to me. I waved back to him, until the cab finally took off. But even then, I kept watching my lover on the step of the cab, my heart filled with fear for him and hope that he and his friend would return home safe, until the carriage soon disappeared into the distant fog.

For a few seconds, I remained where I was, just staring off in the direction the cab had went until I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Turning back, I was met with the smiling face of Mrs. Judson.

"They'll be all right, Miss Campbell," said the kind landlady reassuringly.

"I hope you're right, Mrs. Judson," I replied to her doubtfully.

Without saying another word, the elderly mouse just gave me a pat on the shoulder before we both went back inside, closing the door behind us.

~

A few hours later, we were both in the kitchen, doing our usual round of cleaning the dishes. For a while, we just did our work in silence because I was so filled with worry that I didn't really feel like talking much. Well, could you blame me, really? I had just heard that Basil's previous client had been murdered, so very likely that the murderer could still be nearby, waiting for their next unsuspecting victim, who could very likely be Basil. Though I kept trying to tell myself that everything would be all right in the end, I just couldn't seem to shake off the feeling in my heart that another terrible thing was about to happen.

"It's awful what's happened to Miss Harrison, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Judson eventually, breaking the deafening silence.

"Hm?" I asked as I looked up, having not really paid attention to the question. However, it quickly sunk in and I answered, "Oh, yeah, I know! It's horrible," as I dried last plate and placed it on the small pile of dishes near the counter as I did so. "Who do you suppose could've done that to her, and why?"

Mrs. Judson just sighed and shook her head. "I honestly couldn't tell you, Miss Campbell," she answered, draining the water in the sink. Picking up the pile of plates and taking them over to the cupboard, she went on, "But whoever it was that was responsible for her death, I can only imagine that they are of a very sly, cunning nature, much like the late Professor Ratigan."

Taking the cutlery and putting it in the drawers where they belonged, my heart filled up with even more worry at the very mention of that name. Yes, I knew that that rat had been dead for months now, but that did not mean to say that there would still exist criminals just as cunning and despicable as him. It made me wonder then, if this was just a trap try to lure Basil to his untimely end. The very thought caused my feared to rise all the quicker and I had to fight to suppress any trembling my body was threatening to do at that point. I began to hope then that Basil would remain just as clever as ever and foil any attempts that would be made on his and Dr. Dawson's lives.

Just as Mrs. Judson and I had finished putting the dishes away, we suddenly heard a knock at the front door.

"Oh, could you get that, Miss Campbell?" asked the landlady, walking over to a cupboard at the far end of the kitchen. "There's a little more cleaning I have to do in here."

"Yes, of course," I said, putting down the dish cloth I had been using to dry my hands. Another knock was heard on the door as I left the kitchen and entered the sitting room.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I called to whoever it was that was outside waiting for me as I approached the door. Turning the knob, I opened it and was met with two hooded figures standing side by side.

"Good evening, young lady," one of them said. His voice was deep, but I could definitely make out his cockney accent. "We are here to see Mr. Basil of Baker Street."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but he's not here just now," I said apologetically. "You'll have to come back later." I had begun to close the door but was surprised to feel it come to an abrupt stop before it was even closed properly. I opened it fully again, knowing that that could only have been caused by one of the figures holding the door because they had more to say.

"In that case, my dear," said the other. "Could you possibly tell him that two mice were looking for him?"

I hesitated for a moment as I eyed the two of them suspiciously. There was definitely something not quite right about these two. As if the fact that they were both wearing long, dark cloaks with their hoods up, covering the majority of their faces wasn't reason enough to be cautious around them, there was also the fact that they were refusing to say much about themselves.

"Perhaps if you give me your names, I might think about it," I said to them, not even _trying_ to hide my suspicion, or even my growing annoyance, from them.

"God in Heaven! Is that a house spider over there behind you!?" the first one cried, suddenly pointing his finger as if gesturing to something behind me.

Immediately beginning to panic, I gasped as I quickly turned to look behind myself. But just as it had registered that there was nothing there at all, I screamed in surprise as I felt a pair of strong hands suddenly grab my arms. I instantly began to struggle to free myself, but their grip was just so firm, that my attempts were all in vain.

"Quick, Neville!" I heard my abductor shout behind me to his partner. "The chloroform!"

Neville, having now pulled back his hood to reveal the sinister, rugged face of a London criminal, put his hand into his satchel and pulled out a bottle and a rag. But, just as he had opened the bottle and started to pour its contents onto the rag, the three of us turned to face the direction of the kitchen when we heard the sound of running footsteps coming from within.

"Miss Campbell, is everything all ri -?" asked Mrs. Judson as she came into the sitting room, holding a mop before stopping in her tracks when she laid her eyes on all three of us. "Oh my goodness!" she cried, dropping the mop to the floor in utter shock.

Just then, I heard my abductor grunting in annoyance behind me. "Give me that rag and deal with her whilst I deal with Miss Campbell here, will you?" he said to his partner.

Grinning sadistically, Neville handed the now soaked rag to his partner as he approached Mrs. Judson, who started to back away in horror.

"No! Sto -!" I began to cry out, but was immediately cut off when I felt something wet being held over my nose and mouth. For a few seconds, a very sweet smell began to fill my nostrils before I was aware of myself quickly growing drowsy until everything turned black.

~*~*~*~

"We have to hurry back, Dawson!" I shouted to my friend, as he and I rushed along the streets of London back to Baker Street. "And hope that both Iona and Mrs. Judson are as safe as can be expected!"

Upon arriving at Miss Harrison's library in Oxford Street, we had both been very surprised to find that she hadn't been murdered at all. In fact, she was perfectly all right, as was her brother. No new dreadful thing had occurred at the library at all since last I was there. So I was very confused as to why someone would send me a telegram telling me that she had been murdered. At first, I had thought that maybe it was a foolish prank some rascal was playing on me. That thought then annoyed me, that someone would dare to waste my time with such a tasteless joke when I had much more important matters at hand. Iona came into mind in that instant, and then it occurred to me that maybe that fake telegram wasn't a joke after all. That maybe... maybe someone was distracting me from her, so that she would no longer be under my protection and would now be vulnerable to some kind of evil plot.

Without thinking, I had immediately dashed out of the library, ordering Dawson to follow me, and now the two of us were rushing back to Baker Street as fast as our legs could carry us. While we were running, I didn't even acknowledge my friend's warnings to watch out for the feet of the many humans we passed under on our way. I just zipped my way in amongst them all anyway. My head was just so full of worry for Iona that nothing else seemed to matter. I seemed to be driven only by my fear, just about overflowing in my rapidly beating heart and the adrenaline rushing through my veins as I just ran and ran, not once stopping for breath. All the way there, no matter how strong the feeling that something terrible had happened to her by now, I still willed myself to hold onto the hope that she would still be safe and that no harm had come to her.

Soon, we had finally returned to Baker Street and my heart sank to see that the front door was wide open, the first sign that something really terrible had indeed happened while I was away. But still, we wasted no time and ran in through the door. Upon entering the sitting room, I was even more horrified to see Mrs. Judson bound and gagged near the kitchen door. And what was worse, Iona was nowhere to be seen.

Mrs. Judson was trembling all over with her muffled sobs, but when she spotted us, her eyes lit up as I went over to her. Kneeling down beside her, I took my knife out of my satchel and cut her bounds before pulling her gag from her mouth. Once she was free, her sobs became louder as she buried her face into my shoulder. I put my arm around her to comfort her as I fought to suppress the anger I was now feeling inside. Who would dare do such a thing to my landlady!?

"Oh, Mr. Basil!" she cried through her sobs. "Thank goodness you're here now!"

"What happened, Mrs. Judson?" I asked her. "Who did this to you, and where is Iona?"

"It was awful, Mr. Basil!" she cried once more. "Just awful!"

"Tell me, please," I begged her, though softly, needing to know what had happened to Iona. But she couldn't answer. She was in absolute hysterics and continued to bawl into my shoulder. Looking up to Dawson, who was just standing there watching with such terror, I said to him, "Dawson, get her some brandy will you? It looks as though we'll have to help calm her nerves if we wish to find out what has happened."

"Certainly, Basil," answered my friend as he went over to the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

"Come on, Mrs. Judson," I said softly to her as we both stood up and went over to the couch, my arm still around her shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr. Basil," she answered, still crying although her body wasn't trembling as hard, as we both sat down on the couch together. Dawson came over with a glass he had filled with brandy and handed it to me.

"Here, drink this, Mrs. Judson," I told her, handing her the glass. "It will help settle your nerves."

"Thank you, sir," she repeated, her voice had gotten lower, as she took the glass from me and took a sip from it.

"Now, will you please tell me what has happened to Iona?" I asked her again.

"Oh, it was horrible, Mr. Basil," she said, shaking her head "We were both in the kitchen, having just finished washing the dishes, and then there was a knock at the door. I asked Miss Campbell to go and answer it because I still had a little bit of cleaning to do. She had only been gone for a few moments before I heard what sounded like some kind of struggle taking place in the living room. I ran through to see what the problem was and saw that two mice in long, dark cloaks were holding the poor girl in their grip." She removed her glasses and took out her handkerchief to dab away a few more tears that had fallen from her eyes before continuing, "Before I could do anything, one of them came over, tied me up and gagged me whilst the other knocked Miss Campbell out with a rag soaked in chloroform. I could only just sit there and watch whilst the brutes took her limp, unconscious form away. Please forgive me, Mr. Basil!"

As she cried that last sentence, she returned to her pathetic sobbing state as she buried her face into my shoulder once more. For a few moments, I didn't say a word as I wrapped my arm around her again as I just let her cry into my shoulder. So it was just as I had feared. Iona had been kidnapped whilst I was away, and I was so sure now that the false telegram I had been sent was a trick in order to get me out of the way so that the sender could abduct her.

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Judson," I told her reassuringly, patting her shoulder softly. It was true though, it _wasn't_ her fault. She had been bound and gagged whilst Iona was being taken away by a couple of unknown assailants. Yes, I was angry upon hearing all of this, but not with my landlady. If anyone, I was furious with whoever it was that had made off with Iona, and whichever criminal mastermind it was that was responsible for plotting such a thing. My heart was now filling up with the desire to hunt them down and put them behind bars where they belonged. Though most of all, I was angry with myself for not being there when she needed me to protect her. We had only been together for a few days, and already I had let her down badly.

"Uh... Basil..." I heard Dawson say from behind me. Turning my head to face the direction of his voice, I saw him standing at the doorway holding a rag in his hand and examining it closely through his glasses which he was now wearing. Without hesitating, I stood up and dashed over to his side before snatching the rag out of his hand.

"Aha! Excellent, Dawson!" I exclaimed before fumbling with the rag. There was still a wet patch on it. Bringing the wet part of the rag to my nose, I sniffed at it lightly, only to get a sweet scent which I recognised only too well. "Chloroform," I said. "This must be the rag they used to knock her out. But that alone won't tell us where they would've come from, or indeed where they would've taken her."

I went over to my chemical table and placed the rag under my microscope. "Forgive me, Mrs. Judson, but it looks as though I'll have to perform one of my dreaded experiments just now," I apologised to my landlady, who was still seated on the couch.

"No, that's quite all right, Mr. Basil," she sniffled in reply. "Anything that will help you get Miss Campbell back will be just fine."

"Thank you, Mrs. Judson," I answered before looking down through the microscope. As well as the chloroform particles that would obviously be present on that rag's fabric, I also recognised those of the type of coal dust used in sewer lamps. This immediately gave me a bad feeling about Iona's kidnappers, but my experiment still hadn't been completed yet. I slipped the rag back out from under the microscope, turned on my Bunsen burner and burned the rag on the flame that shot out of it, before letting the ashes that were left into my mortar. Picking up said mortar, I began crushing the ashes together with my pestle before pouring the mixture into a beaker, causing the yellow liquid that was in there to turn blue. I then picked up a bottle of red liquid and slowly and carefully tipping it over above the beaker, allowing a single drop to fall into the beaker. This caused a puff of smoke to burst from the substance as it turned a violet colour. Reaching over, I turned on the flame on my chemistry set, causing the green liquid inside to bubble up. I watched with great anticipation as it travelled through the tubes until it reached the very end and a single droplet was hanging above the violet liquid in the beaker for a few seconds before dropping in. The liquid changed from violet to red for a few seconds before slowly becoming clear. Again, I recognised this all too well. Such a reaction could only have been triggered by the rag's extreme saturation with distillation of sodium chloride.

"This is very bad, Dawson," I said solemnly, shaking my head at the results of my experiment.

"Why, what's wrong, Basil?" I heard him ask behind me.

"You remember that experiment I performed during the Flaversham case, with the list that that one-legged fiend, Fidget left behind in the toy shop?" I began.

"Why, yes," answered Dawson. "What about it?"

"The results had proven beyond a doubt that it had come from the river front area," I explained. "The exact same particles of coal dust that were on that list were also on that torn piece of fabric I found behind Miss Harrison's library on the day of Iona's arrival. That proved that whoever that piece of fabric had belonged to had also come from the river front area."

"So what does all that have to do with Miss Campbell?" asked my friend, evidently confused.

"Everything," I answered, picking up the beaker full of clear liquid and showing it to him. "The exact same experiment I performed on Fidget's list I have just done on this rag Iona's kidnappers had used to knock her out. The results are the exact same too. Which can only mean one thing: the same crooks who were responsible for breaking into Miss Harrison's library are also responsible for abducting Iona. Very fitting too, that these fiends are from the area in the Mouse Underworld where my late arch nemesis, Professor Ratigan once dwelled, because such a dastardly plot could only have been thought out by someone as clever as him."

"But, Basil!" my friend exclaimed. "The professor has been dead for months!"

"Is he really, though, Dawson?" I asked him, voicing the doubt that was now beginning to grow in my heart at that very moment. "Can we really be sure of that? Impossible though it may seem that even a rat _his_ size could've survived falling from a height so great as from the clock face of Big Ben, I'm definitely now starting to have my doubts. No, I am _not_ willing to jump to any conclusions just now, but if indeed Iona really is now in the clutches of the most depraved mind in all of London, then we dare not take any chances."

At that, I began to make my way back towards the door.

"Where are you going, Basil?" I heard Dawson ask behind me.

"Dawson, kindly stay here and look after Mrs. Judson whilst I go and find my trusty Baker Street Irregulars," I told him. "I'll need them to find out for sure whether it really is Ratigan who is still ruling the sewers at the waterfront whilst I try and work out our disguises."

"Disguises?" I heard him ask again, utter dread could be heard in his voice at the realisation of what I meant.

"Yes, my dear Dawson," I told him sombrely as I turned back to face him. "It looks as though we may have to pay another visit to the Rat Trap."


	11. Chapter 11

I seemed to have been brought round by the strong scent of lavender, but I was also aware of the feeling of something being shoved roughly on the underside of my nose, where the smell seemed to becoming from. I groaned, still feeling very light headed and my eyelids were still heavy.

"Oh, good, she's waking up!" I heard a gruff, cockney voice above me saying.

"Not quickly enough, though!" answered another one, in a rather annoyed tone. "Get a bucket of cold water, Bill!"

In my weariness, which was fading away very slowly, these voices sounded a little far away, but I could still tell that they didn't belong to any good, civilised mice. For a few seconds, I struggled to open my heavy eyelids, but succeeded and forced them open. My vision was very blurry at first, but it cleared after I blinked a few times. My tiredness seemed to leave me in an instant and my eyes widened, as I immediately recognised the two rogues staring down at me. They were the very same thugs who grabbed me and chloroformed me back at Baker Street, and their sinister smirks were still on their rugged faces. My heart now starting to fill up with fear once again, I shot upwards and began to back away from them as fast as I could, until I was right up against something. What frightened me more was that the taller one walked forward after me, but thankfully stopped when I did.

"Hello there, sleeping beauty," he sneered down at me as he put both his fists to his hips. "I trust you slept well."

"Who are you!?" I demanded, summoning up what little courage I had left. "Where am I!?"

The thug just responded by laughing so sinisterly, that it sent an unpleasant shiver up my spine. "That's the _least_ of your worries, luv," he said.

Before I could ask him what he meant, a tall lizard appeared from behind him with a bucket of water and threw it over me. I immediately screamed loudly, due to the intense coldness of it, as well as the mere surprise of it hitting me. I then wrapped my arms around myself as I began to shiver all over.

"Now look what you've done, Bill!" the thug in front of me shouted angrily at the lizard, slapping him hard on the back of the head. "Now she's soaking wet!"

"B-b-b-b-but, Charlie..." Bill stammered nervously. "D-didn't you just -?"

"Just go and tell the professor that we've returned with her!" Charlie interrupted him, pointing him in the direction behind him. Bill just stammered something else before he decided to just do what he was told and run off in the direction the mouse thug was pointing.

The professor? Oh, no. That didn't sound good, not at all. It was then that it occurred to me that in fact I had no idea where I was now. I took the opportunity to look around me, and every detail I saw caused my the bad feeling I already had to worsen. I appeared to be in a large hall with pink wooden walls and lilac checkered floors. Red curtains were hanging from the walls and there was even a red carpet in the middle of the floor, from the doorway on one end all the way up to a throne on a raised level at the other. On one side of the room was a large fountain made of white marble and a golden harp on the other. Lastly, in one of the far corners of the room was a huge pile of jewels and gold coins with a large purple crown mounted on top of it. I immediately knew this place as the lair of the nefarious Professor Padraic Ratigan. But then, if this _was _his lair, and these were his thugs who had kidnapped me and brought me here, then would that mean...?

Just then, a door at the other far corner of the room opened and Bill returned, followed by a tall, slender but muscular rat wearing a black tuxedo, white opera gloves and a pink and violet cravat. To top all that off, he was wearing a long, flowing black and red cloak. My heart filled up with even more fear and dread as I instantly recognised this rat as the nefarious professor himself!

_But that _can't _be him!_ I thought. _He's dead!_

Smiling that sinister smile of his, he bowed to me before saying, "Pleased to finally meet you in person, Miss Iona Campbell. Professor Padraic Ratigan at your service."

However, knowing what an evil, sadistic rat he was, I would not be moved by his gentlemanly charm.

"Listen you," I began to say to him, standing up in an attempt to be brave. "I have no idea how you know my name, or even how you knew where to find me. But I'll tell you this; enjoy holding me captive while you still can. Because as soon as Basil finds out that it's you who's done this and finds me here, you'll be lucky if you even live to regret it!"

At that moment, there was a short pause before Ratigan and all his thugs began to laugh hysterically. As well as confusion, my fear began to return to me as to why these thugs would start to laugh at my mentioning Basil to them. Normally, Ratigan would lose his temper if anyone besides himself were to mention his arch nemesis, something I knew I was risking. So why would he be laughing? I hadn't long to wait to find out.

"Basil ain't gonna be comin' for ya!" scoffed Charlie.

"Oh?" I asked him, still trying to act all brave and rebellious. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Because..." gloated Neville, unable to control his chuckling. "Because we killed him!"

My heart stopped. "What!?" I asked, unable to believe what I had just heard.

"We killed him!" repeated Neville, still smirking. "While we were bringing you back here, he caught us and tried to come after us. But we shot him and threw his corpse into the Thames for the fishes!"

As I listened, I grew more and more horrified as it all sunk in. "You're... you're lying!" I shouted, desperately hoping that what I was being told wasindeed a lie.

But Charlie just snickered. "You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?" he sneered. Turning to Neville, he then said, "Neville, show Miss Campbell here the proof we have that we have indeed finally killed that meddling busybody, Basil."

Smirking also, Neville reached into his satchel and pulled out what was unmistakably Basil's Inverness coat. When he held it out in front of him, my jaw dropped with my growing horror as I saw two holes, which could only have been made by bullets, in the chest area, stained with what looked very much like blood. So it was true. Basil, my Basil, _had _been murdered by these thugs!

Neville tossed the stained coat in my direction and it landed at my feet. My head was spinning and my legs were shaking so much that I couldn't stop myself from falling to my knees. As I reached out and took the coat into my hands, a couple of tears fell from my eyes, though the sobbing which I was fighting to keep in didn't break free until I picked it up and buried my face into it, muffling said sobs. I still couldn't believe it, that my Basil was really dead.

"Now, look what you've all done!" I heard Ratigan saying to his thugs, the fury clearly heard in his voice. I then heard some footsteps coming in my direction but stopped just in front of me. Looking up, I could barely see the professor looking down at me through my tears.

"How could you...?" I asked him, my voice barely making it above a whisper thanks to the lump in my throat.

"Now, please don't judge me to harshly, my dear," said Ratigan in a sympathetic tone, taking a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and handing it to me. For a few seconds, I just looked at it. My hatred for the filthy rat in front me had not lessened. In fact, it had increased because of what I was just told he had done to my Basil. But I felt now that it was useless to continue to act all rebellious. So reluctantly, I just accepted and took the handkerchief off him and used it to wipe the tears away.

"I understand how very important he was to you," the professor went on. "But you must also understand, he had interfered with my many plots, so I _had _to get rid of him, so that he would no longer be a bother to me. Call it pest control if you will."

Pest control? Pest control!? He _really _considered murdering a fellow rodent "pest control"!? Then again, this was Professor Ratigan I was talking about, who thought nothing of murder, so I guess I shouldn't really have been surprised after all. Though what he said still really angered me, but I chose not to let it show and just nodded.

"Yes, professor," I said quietly.

"Good," he answered before turning back to his thugs. "Boys, take her to the room we have prepared for her and see that she's comfortable."

"Right, professor!" Charlie and Neville answered before approaching me and yanking me roughly up onto my feet.

"And be gentle with her!" added Ratigan. "She's just had a massive shock!"

"Right, professor!" the two thugs repeated before leading me across the room, through the door at the far end and through a long corridor.

The whole time, I didn't say a word and just suffered in silence. No matter how utterly hopeless my situation was, I refused to let myself be taken in by that rat's "kindness". I had watched the movie to which he belonged often enough to know how evil he really was at heart. It didn't take the mind of Sherlock Holmes to know that he was keeping me prisoner and forcing me to join his gang of London mouse criminals. However, knowing now that he has killed Basil, and very possibly Dawson and Mrs. Judson as well by now, I knew that it would be useless to resist him.

Eventually we came to a door. Taking out a key, Charlie began unlocking it as he said to me, "This'll be your room from now on, luv."

"Thank you," I replied quietly.

Charlie opened the door and tilted his head to the side as a gesture for me to go in. Without saying a word, I obeyed. Once inside, I looked around and found myself in a particularly fancy bedroom. The walls were of a scarlet red and the wooden floors were light beige. On one side of the room, there was a cream coloured dressing table with a huge mirror against the wall. Next to that, there was a long window that went all the way down the floor, covered with an equally long net curtain with some floral patterns. At the far end of the room, was a large queen size bed with silken burgundy covers and pillows and a white satin throw blanket. The velvet cushions too were white and burgundy and in shapes of circular and square. On the wall behind the bed were several framed pictures above the headboard and a wall candle holder on either side, in which three candles were burning softly. Also on either side of the bed was a chest of drawers. On one there was a vase of artificial roses and on the other was a bottle of wine and a couple of tall wine glasses. Lastly, underneath the bed was a huge black and white striped rug which covered that half of the room.

I grew confused about being given this beautiful room. If Ratigan was keeping me prisoner here, why wasn't he having me locked away in some cold, dank dungeon somewhere? Was this his attempt at impressing me and winning me over? If it was, he was failing miserably, for _no _act of kindness he showed me would make me warm up to him and forgive him for what he did to my Basil.

Just then, I heard the door closing behind me. Turning round, I also heard the sound of a key turning on the other side. I ran up to it and turned the knob in an attempt to open it. It wouldn't budge, so I knew then that it was locked. I knelt down, pressed my ear against the keyhole and listened as hard as I could. I heard what I was sure were the footsteps of the two thugs walking down in the corridor in the direction of the huge throne room. I knew then that I was alone.

Standing back up, I ran up to the bed and threw myself onto it. Burying my face into the one of the cushions, I finally let out the sobs that I had been bottling up for the last several minutes or so. For about a few minutes, I just kept bawling into said cushion until I started to grow very tired and eventually drifted off into the blackness of sleep.

The next thing I knew, I was standing lost and all alone in just total blackness. I could barely see a thing and I started to grow very frightened. I turned round with my arms out in front of me, trying to feel a wall or something to help guide me through this darkness. I eventually spotted Basil standing quite far off with his back to me. I called out to him, but he didn't respond, so I called again, but louder. This time, he turned round to face me and smiled when he saw me. I felt a smile of my own forming on my face as I started running up to him. As I got nearer, I saw Basil turning round completely and held his arms out for me. I returned his gesture as I got nearer still, so happy that he was alive and well, and unable to wait to be with him again.

However, just as I was a few inches away from him, he suddenly seemed to fall through the invisible ground beneath us. Dropping to my knees, I watched with horror as my lover fell further and further away from me, his screams sounding so horrible to me. I cried out his name as I desperately held my hand out, but could only watch as he disappeared into the dark abyss below. His screaming stopped at that moment and only echoed throughout the blackness around me for a few seconds, leaving behind a haunted silence.

Though that silence was quickly broken when I heard the sound of faint but sadistic chuckling behind me. Shivers ran up my spine as I turned round in the direction of the sound. Ratigan now stood in front of me, smirking evilly down at me. His light chuckling got louder and eventually evolved into maniacal cackling as he walked closer and closer to me until he was towering over me like a dark shadow. I was just so afraid I could barely move, and just sat there completely frozen as I watched him come closer still.

Suddenly, he seemed to change into some kind of monster, bearing his sharp teeth and holding both his clawed hands up as he lunged towards me. I just screamed out in sheer terror, but before the demonic rat even touched me, I opened my eyes and found myself back on the bed in that surprisingly fancy bedroom I had been locked in earlier. My heart was pounding as if it were about to burst out of my chest and I felt my fur all glued together with cold sweat. A dream? It must've been, and yet it felt so real. I knew instantly that it must've reflected on my situation, everything that was happening to me. Basil was dead, and now I was completely at the mercy of Professor Ratigan.

It was then that I felt a lump beginning to form in my throat again and my eyes began to sting from the fresh tears that were trying to break free. I tried to fight them, but they were just too strong and I hugged my bent legs to my chest and buried my face into my knees. The tears flooded from my eyes as I began to sob yet again.

For a few moments, I just sat there, crying my eyes out before, without knowing why, I raised my head and turned into the direction of the long window next to the bed. Again without knowing what possessed me to do so, I stood up from the bed, approached said window and pulled the chord to pull the curtain back. The sky was dark, but dotted with millions of stars. I wondered then how long I had been asleep, or even how long I had been out cold whilst Neville and Charlie were bringing me to this awful place.

Looking round at all the stars on the sky, my eyes fell onto one particularly bright one. Examining it for a few seconds, I immediately recognised it as the very same star I had wished on to find love before waking up in this universe. At first, I had been unwilling to believe in such childish notions that such a thing was true, that a wish would come true just by wishing on the brightest star in the sky. Then again, I _was_ in the universe of my favourite Disney movie now, still without any idea as to how or why, so maybe it _was_ possible that that star was the reason Basil and I had met, even if we would only be together for a short while.

Just then, my heart quickly filled up with anger as I ran round the bed, picked up one of the tall wine glasses and threw it at the window. Hitting said window, it smashed into tiny little pieces, which fell to the floor.

"You idiot!" I screamed in absolute fury at the star. "I said to help me find love, not break my heart further!"

Just then, it dawned on me as I staggered towards the bed and just collapsed face down onto it.

_I'm losing my temper with a bloody star... _I thought. _I must be going insane..._

At that moment, another dreadful thought occurred to me; maybe it was my fault that all of this happened. I mean, this _did_ all start with me yearning to find love and being so desperate that I made that damned wish on that star, so sure that it wouldn't work. My dad did tell me not to let it get to me, didn't he? But that was just it! There were so many things in my life that had bothered me so much, that he always told me not to let them get to me. But I never really listened to him. I thought I did, but I didn't. If I had, I wouldn't have continued to worry about those things, making myself all the more depressed and unhappy.

So now, I appeared to be suffering the consequences. I had been taken away from my family and friends, who I knew then I would never see again. I thought then of the friends I spoke to online. They'd be incredibly worried about my sudden disappearance. Would kind of things would they be wondering? Would they be thinking that I had suddenly decided to abandon them out of the blue? Or that I had been banned from talking to them because my parents feared that I'd be getting screwed over in the head by their ideas that having a crush on a fictional mouse was okay? That I had suddenly found a job that ate up too much of my free time? Or I had suddenly died? They would never know, and neither would my family nor my other friends who I knew in person.

But it wasn't just the humans from my world who would pay the price of my actions. Basil had been brutally murdered, trying to protect me. It was also very likely that the same fate had befallen Dawson, Mrs. Judson, and even Hiram Flaversham and his little daughter, Olivia. Oh God, had I been indirectly responsible for the death of an innocent child!? I really hoped against hope that I wasn't.

And now, without Basil to protect Mousedom, Ratigan would soon be making a second attempt at assassinating Queen Mousetoria, the mouse world's answer to Queen Victoria, in order to take over as king of the British Mouse Empire. Except this time, he would very likely succeed. A reign of terror would begin and every mouse in Great Britain would suffer greatly at his hands.

All this was thanks to my childish impatience and recklessness.

"I'm so sorry, everyone..." I whimpered, starting to cry again.

After another few moments of crying pitifully to myself, I remembered one last detail about this room which I had forgotten to list above. Raising myself up, I turned round to face the wall behind me. This wall was decorated with all kinds of weapons; swords, daggers, spears, guns, axes, the lot. At first, I was confused as to why a room like this would have such a large collection of weapons. As I looked around, my eyes fell upon a pair of pistols crossed together on the wall right in front of me. This got me thinking.

It was all too clear to me that now that I was Ratigan's prisoner, my life would be nothing but absolute misery. No doubt he would try to force me into joining his gang, and without the hope of Basil coming to my rescue, I would have no choice but to give in. I would try to find a way to escape myself, but what use would that be? He would just send his thugs after me anyway. So I very likely wouldn't get very far. The life of a criminal was really _not_ what I wanted. So, the dread of spending the rest of my life serving under that evil rat together with the unbearable guilt of causing my getting permanently separated from my friends and family, the death of my lover (and possibly his friends also) and the upcoming ruin of Mousedom pretty much made these two pistols, heck _all _these weapons, a welcome sight.

Reaching over, I took one of the pistols off the wall, opened it up and was relieved to see that there was a bullet inside. However, I just sat on my bed, staring down at the pistol in my hands as I took a last few seconds to think more about my options. On one hand, I could spend the rest of my years, reluctantly committing crimes by order of Ratigan, missing my family, my friends, but most of all Basil and moping over how everything that had happened was all my fault. On the other, I could end it all right here, right now and not have to live to witness any of the terrors that were soon to unfold. Though afraid I once was to die before I was ready, I felt so much more inclined to go with the latter.

Now shaking all over at the realisation of my decision, I brought the loaded pistol up to my head and pressed the barrel against my temple. My heart began to beat faster and my breathing got more laboured as I knew now that simple pull of the trigger would be enough to send me into the permanent blackness dreaded by most; the blackness of death. However, the idea of living with my guilt for the rest of my life seemed much more terrifying to me at that moment, so I began to prepare myself. My loved ones back in the 21st Century would never see me again anyway, so it would've made no difference to them whether I was dead or not. I was pretty much dead to them already.

_Well, here goes... _I thought as I closed my eyes. _Three... two... one..._

But just as my finger started to move back to pull the trigger, I suddenly heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock of the door. As quickly as I could, I took the pistol away from my head and hit it under one of the cushions as I heard the door opening. Looking back, I was once again face to face with Neville, his expression as cold and sadistic as ever.

"The professor will see you now," he said.

Without saying a word, I obeyed as I stood up, approached the door and went with him down the corridor before the two of us were soon back in the throne room. As we both walked round the throne to face the rat seated upon it, he turned to face us and a smile formed on his lips when his eyes fell upon me.

"Good to see you again, Miss Campbell," he said, taking a sip of sparkling pink champagne from his glass. "I trust you're feeling better?"

"Much better, thank you," I lied, nodding weakly. Needless to say, the truth was, I was still feeling as guilty and full of grief as ever.

"Good, I am so glad to hear that," he smiled, though I was certain he wasn't entirely convinced. Then, setting his glass down on the arm of his throne, he continued, "Now then, my dear, onto more important business. Because you have nowhere else to go, I think you should stay here and start working for me now."

I knew it. He was intending to make me a member of his underworld gang.

"Very kind of you, professor," I replied coldly, even though I knew he was being anything _but _kind.

"And here is my first command to you," he went on, standing up and walking towards me, holding what looked like a large black, leather bound booklet with many sheets of paper in his hands.

"What is it you wish me to do, professor?" I asked him in the same tone as before.

"The Rat Trap, a pub which conceals the entrance to this secret lair of mine, needs a new showgirl, since the regular customers there are starting to get tired of the same old song sung by Miss Kitty, a really beautiful and talented singer who has been with me for years," he explained, stopping in front of me.

Did I hear that right? Was this slimy old rat wanting me to become a showgirl for some, filthy, seedy pub in the London docks!? Was he wanting me to join the bordello that was no doubt nearby? Was he wanting me to sell myself to any type of criminal who would take an interest in me and had enough money with him to indulge in said interests? The very thought made my stomach turn over, but I chose not to let it show.

Holding the booklet out to me, Ratigan continued, "Here is the song I wish you to sing for them."

I hesitated for a few seconds before taking the booklet from him. This booklet must've contained music sheets then.

"Won't take very long for you to learn it, my dear," he went on. "In fact, I believe it's a song you know quite well."

I then looked up at him, confused, before looking back at the booklet in my hands and opening it. I was surprised, no, _astonished _as I instantly recognised the song title and first few lyrics on the first page. Indeed, this was a song I knew very well, and loved too. A song from the 21st Century, a song that had been written _long _after this era.

Looking up at the professor in front of me, I asked him in amazement, "How did you get this?"

Ratigan just chuckled in response. "Oh, I have my own subtle little ways," he answered, tapping the side of his nose, indicating that how he had come to obtain the sheet music. This worried me even more, but before I could say anything, he began to wave his hand as a gesture for me to get going.

"Now, hurry along and get practising, my dear," he said. "You have only a few hours before we have to be there."

A few hours!? What kind of time was that to practice for a stage performance? What could this rat be planning, I asked myself. However, choosing not to say anything about it, I just nodded my head and answered, "Yes, professor."

"Good girl," said Ratigan. "Neville, lead Miss Campbell to the Music Room, will you?"

"Right, professor!" answered Neville obediently. Turning to me, he then said, "Right, you, come with me!" before we both left the throne room.

_Why didn't I just pull the trigger? _I asked myself, remembering the lifelong misery that was soon to come.


	12. Chapter 12

"Basil, are you absolutely sure that the Rat Trap is the right place to look to find Miss Campbell?" asked Dawson as we were changing into our disguises.

"Well, it's a good place to start," I answered, standing in front of a mirror and applying the required greasepaint to my face for the rugged gangster look.

"Oh, well," he said quietly. "If you say so."

Turning from the mirror to face my friend, I saw that he had a look of uncertainty, or rather dread, on his face. I sighed at this. "Listen, Dawson," I began. "I understand that you really do not wish to go to that place again after the Flaversham case. Believe me, I'm absolutely _dreading_ mingling with the London underworld again. But at the end of the day, Iona is out there somewhere, very likely in the hands of Professor Ratigan and we must do what we can to get her back. So help me, I will _not _lose her the way I lost Relda!"

At that moment, it was Dawson's turn to sigh as he nodded his head in understanding. "Yes, you're quite right," he said. "Forgive me, my friend."

Walking up to him, I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him. "You're quite forgiven."

The doctor returned my smile and put his hand on top of mine. We remained that way for about a few seconds before there was a knock at the door. I immediately dashed towards it, hoping that it would be Henry and his gang of street urchins whom I referred to as my "Baker Street Irregulars", since I had employed them many times to help me with past cases. Upon opening the door, I was very pleased to see those very same lads on the doorstep.

"Evenin', gov!" chirped Henry, saluting me.

"Good evening, lads," I replied. "So, any news?"

"Yep, we did exactly as you said, gov!" chirped the lad again. "We snuck through the sewers and got to the old professor's hideout, where you thought he might be keeping your girlfriend, without getting caught! And guess what, she is indeed there, and so is he!"

"'He'?" I asked him, my heart beginning to fill up with fear once more.

"U-um..." stammered Gilbert nervously, as if afraid to answer my question. "Y-your old enemy, P-Professor Ratigan, sir."

"Professor Ratigan..." I repeated out loud, shaking my head in horror. "So, he really _is _alive then..."

"Afraid so, sir..." answered Robert in the same nervous tone, nodding his head.

"But how is that even possible?" asked Dawson, who had evidently been listening.

"We don't know, sir," answered Bernard solemnly. "We're just as confused about it as you are, gov."

"After all, it's impossible for a rat even _his _size to survive a fall from the face of Big Ben, isn't it?" Edward added in.

"Is it, though?" I asked in response. "Can we really be sure of that?"

"Y'know, it's very true, guys," said Richard to his friends. "That professor was one very sneaky old rat. Wouldn't be surprised if 'e was able to come up with some cunning way to 'elp 'imself survive that fall."

I took a minute to consider the young lad's words. The more they sunk in, the more my fear for Iona's safety grew, and the more anxious I was for Dawson and I to just head out to the Rat Trap.

"Mr. Basil..." I heard Albert, the youngest, say nervously. "What's going to happen to us all, now that that mean old professor has kidnapped your girlfriend?"

I looked down at the lad and smiled. "Don't you worry, young Albert," I said reassuringly to him. "Just you leave it all to me."

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out some money and started counting it as I said to them all, "You've done very well indeed, lads, and I thank you very much. Normally, I would only pay you all a shilling each for your efforts. However, since you have just helped me to find the whereabouts of someone who, at this moment in time, means the whole world to me, I shall pay you all _three _shillings each as a token of my deep appreciation."

As I began to give the little lads their payments, their faces all seemed to brighten up at this new amount they'd be getting.

"Wow! Thank you very much indeed, sir!" cried Henry happily.

"No trouble at all, young Henry," I replied. "No trouble at all. Now, run along, all of you. The doctor here and I have a very important mission which _must _be seen to right away."

"Righto, sir!" chirped Henry, as he and his gang all saluted me. "Right, boys! Let's all be off now!"

With that, all seven of them scampered away into the dark city ahead. Once the last of them disappeared into the fog, I turned back to my friend, whose dreaded expression had gotten deeper.

"Yes, my friend," I said gravely to him. "It has now been confirmed that Ratigan is indeed the one holding my dear Iona in confinement. So, now that I have received that confirmation from my trusty Baker Street Irregulars and that we are both ready, I'm afraid it is now time to head off to the Rat Trap. Of course, even now, it's not to late to change your mind. If you really do _not_ wish to accompany me to that place again, then I shall be perfectly happy to go alone."

However, the good doctor just stared straight at me as he walked up to me. Putting his hand to my shoulder, he then said to me, "Basil, I have accompanied you on _all_ of your cases, since that night that I brought little Olivia Flaversham into your home. We have been through many things together and have watched each other's backs since then. So if you think that I'm going to allow you to carry out this mission on your own, you are very much mistaken, my friend."

Smiling at him, I put my hand on his arm as I replied, "Thank you, doctor. I really do appreciate it." Pulling his hand of my shoulder and starting to walk around him, I continued, "Now, hurry along, Dawson! I think we have wasted quite enough time as it is. We must go up to Toby's right now!"

And with that, the two of us said goodbye to Mrs. Judson, who wished us good luck in return, before we went through the door which led to the flights of stairs which would take us up to the home of Sherlock Holmes, where our canine escort was waiting for us.


	13. Chapter 13

For what seemed like a very long time, I just stared at my reflection in the mirror in one of the dressing rooms in the Rat Trap. The more I took in the pathetic image in front of me, the more my heart sank. I could barely recognise myself anymore. In front of me was no longer the plain young girl I had always known myself to be, but some kind of gothic, Victorian prostitute. The black eye shadow that had run down my face due to the many tears I had shed for the past few hours seemed to add to the effect. This was not surprising though, since that was pretty much what I had been reduced to now. Just when I thought it was bad enough being forced to become part of the London Underworld, I just _had_ to end up selling myself on the streets to any of the monstrous criminals, making them feel free to use me in any way they pleased.

And who was to blame for that? Me, of course. Had it not been for the childish act I had committed on Valentine's Day, I wouldn't have been there now. I would still be back in my home in 21st Century Scotland, where my family was, the safest place I had ever been, and I would still have what little self respect I ever had. Now it seemed that my new home was in the slums and brothels of Victorian London. Some life that would be. And the only reason that such was the case was because the only mouse in world who could've saved me from such a life was dead, and very likely so were the rest of them. I was now responsible for the death of my friends, for my permanent separation from my family and I couldn't even punish myself by pulling the trigger which could've ended it all in a flash. Oh, what a coward I was! What a useless, pathetic, pitiful waste of space!

As these thoughts just ran through my head, I began to hate myself so much that the very sight of my own face in the mirror started to sicken me. In all my frustration, before I knew what I was doing, my fisted hand suddenly swung round over my head and collided with said mirror with a loud _crash!_, causing it to break and sending many shards of different sizes to come falling down all over the dressing table. I cried out and jerked my hand away as I was immediately aware of an intense searing pain in the side of my hand. Horrified at seeing the huge streak of blood running over my palm, I quickly sat back down onto my chair, taking several paper tissues and pressing them tightly to the wound to try and stop the bleeding. For moment, all I could do was rock back and forward on the chair, grunting and moaning from the agony that still engulfed my injured hand.

Eventually I looked back up to my reflection in the mirror I had just struck violently and my eyes immediately fell on the long crack which came from the huge space left in the spot I had hit and ran all the way to the opposite side. It was at that moment that I couldn't stop myself from starting to cry again, now feeling even more stupid from that reckless act. Again, I had done something to only hurt myself further. Though compared to my whole situation, this injury seemed like nothing, just another cherry growing from the branch of things that had all gone wrong for me. I just felt so helpless that I couldn't stop the sobs from leaving me at that moment. Try as I might, I couldn't keep myself quiet. Though at that moment, I didn't seem to care anymore. I just wanted to die, to disappear forever and ever.

Eventually, I was interrupted when I heard female voices outside the room, followed by the door opening. Looking up, I saw three white female mice walking into the room. One of them was wearing a flowing navy blue dress and a crimson blouse around her shoulders, held in place with a large pink button. To top it off, she had a blue bow in her white hair. The other two were wearing pink gowns, black opera gloves and pink feathered hats. I recognised them immediately as Miss Kitty Mouse and her sisters, the Rat Trap showgirls.

"Oh, this must be the new girl," said one of the mice in pink, sounding a little surprised when she, along with her two sisters, spotted me.

"But she doesn't look too happy," said the other one, shaking her head sympathetically.

Miss Kitty walked up to me and knelt down in front of me. "Hey, you all right, sweetie?" she asked, concerned.

I didn't answer. I felt unable to speak thanks to the lump that was still in my throat, for fear that I would just break down in tears again. Miss Kitty then looked down and saw me clutching the masses of tissues to my injured hand. Somehow managing to pry my other hand away, she gasped in shock when she saw the blood that had been soaked into them and looked up towards the broken mirror.

"Oh, my God!" she cried. Turning back to her sisters, she said to them, "Quick! Go find the professor. Tell him what's happened!"

"Yes, Kitty!" they both answered at once before rushing out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Miss Kitty brought another chair forward and took a seat in front of me, still holding my injured hand. "Silly girl," she scolded me, shaking her head. "What on earth did you have to go and do that for? You could've ended up killing yourself!"

"Could've, would've, should've," I answered miserably.

The white doe immediately responded by looking up at me in utter shock. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but quickly stopped herself and instead nodded her head in understanding. "Oh, yeah, that's right," she said. "You're Basil of Baker Street's new girl, aren't you?"

"Well, I was anyway," I told her in the same tone, before it dawned on me. Looking back at her in confusion, I then asked, "But how do you know that anyway?"

"Oh, you know how it is," she smiled, winking at me. "News travels fast."

"Ah, true enough..." I said quietly, feeling rather silly for it not occurring to me that since she was also a part of Ratigan's gang, she would definitely have known about me and Basil's short relationship as well, like the rest of them did.

"Oh, but, silly me! Where are my manners?" she chuckled. "Since you're going to be working with us now, I think we really ought to introduce ourselves. I'm Katrina, though I'm generally known as my stage name, 'Miss Kitty Mouse', but you can just call me 'Kitty'. Those two other mice who had just left are my two younger sisters, Kathrine and Kaitlin. I don't think the professor told me yours."

"Iona," I simply said.

"Iona, huh?" she repeated. "Never heard that name before. It's very nice."

"Thanks," I answered blankly.

There was a short period of silence before Kitty let out a sad sigh and said, "Listen, I'm awfully sorry about what happened to Basil. I really am."

For that entire conversation, I did well to stop myself from crying again, but when Kitty said that, I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I leaned forward and buried my face into my hands as I just burst into another sobbing fit. I was barely even aware of the feeling of the white mouse placing a comforting hand to my shoulder.

"Why...?" I wailed pathetically. "Why did he have to make them do that to him? It was wrong! It was _evil_!"

"There, there, now," said Kitty soothingly as she began to rub my shoulder gently. "I know it hurts, and I completely understand why you must hate the professor now. I also know that he has made himself quite a reputation as being the world's greatest criminal mind, the Napoleon of crime and all that, but to tell you the truth, he really isn't so bad once you get to know him. Just give him a chance. You'll see."

"I don't _wanna_ get to know him!" I snapped, half shouting half sobbing, causing Kitty to jerk her hand away in surprise. "I don't wanna have anything to do with him!" I quickly noticed the alarmed expression on the showgirl's face and immediately felt bad for my passive-aggressiveness. "I'm sorry..." I said quietly, looking down in shame.

"No, it's okay, sweetie," she said softly. "I understand." Obviously choosing then to change the subject, presumably to help take my mind off things, she soon chirped, "Oh, would you look at that! Your make-up's running down your face. That's no look for any showgirl to go out and perform on stage with." Taking out a handkerchief and spitting onto it, she began to clean the smudged make-up from my face as she continued, "Not to worry. I should be able to fix that in no time."

For a while, I just sat there completely still as Kitty reapplied my make-up. Thankfully, I was able to stop crying during that time, and just co-operated while the white mouse did her best to try and doll me back up again. It did take a while, but we talked away during the process, making it seem to take less. It also helped to take my mind off the pain in my hand.

"There!" she chirped again when she had finished. "You look absolutely beautiful! Look!"

She turned me round to face my reflection in the broken mirror. True, I did look much more beautiful and desirable now that those black streaks on my face were gone, but in all honesty, it really didn't make me feel any better. Though I still managed to force a smile onto my face and breathed, "Thank you."

"No problem, sweetie," answered Kitty, smiling sweetly.

Just then, the door opened and Kitty's sisters returned, one carrying a small bundle of rags, the other a bottle of rum.

"Sorry, Kitty," said one of them apologetically. "But this is the best we've got before we can get a doctor with a proper first aid kit to check her out."

Taking both items from her sisters, Kitty said to them, "Don't worry, girls. It'll do for now."

Sitting back down in front on me, she opened the bottle of rum and poured some of its contents onto her handkerchief. She then took the tissues I had been clutching the the wound in my hand and began dabbing at it with her rum-soaked handkerchief. I clenched my eyes shut and hissed through my gritted teeth at the sharp, stinging sensation it brought.

"Sorry, hon," Kitty apologised. "But it's all we've got to stop any infection from getting in until we can get hold of a real doctor with proper medicine."

"No, it's fine," I just answered.

After a short moment, she took her handkerchief away and began wrapping the rags tightly around my hand, tying a knot in it to prevent it from sliding off, like some kind of tourniquet.

"There we are," she said, sounding really quite pleased with herself. "All fixed up and ready to go out and impress the lads on stage."

I forced another smile onto my face in response just before I heard the door knocking again. It opened and none other than Ratigan himself entered. When those horrible yellow eyes fell upon me, his sinister smirk returned to his face, causing a shiver to run up my spine and my stomach to turn over. I was fully aware of myself sending a deadly glare in his direction, to which he only responded by widening his smirk.

"We're ready for you now, my dear," he simply said.

~*~*~*~

"Stay, Toby, stay," I whispered up to my canine steed, crouching at the edge of the wall and waggling his tail frantically as he watched Dawson and I walking along the wooden walkway leading to the Rat Trap, the seedy pub in the London docks where the scum of the London Underworld gather. My stomach turned as the sign above the door got closer and closer and the chatter and laughter of the ruffians inside got louder and louder. I began to fear the worst. What if Iona had been taken to this dreadful place, where she would very likely be harassed by some of the perverted deviants here? Though then, I told myself not to think such thoughts, and I had to focus on rescuing her and getting her out of here, as well as catching that filthy rat and bringing him to justice.

Taking a cigarette out of my pocket and putting it into my mouth, holding it between my teeth, I said back to my friend, "Well, Dawson, here we are again. Back at the Rat Trap."

"Yes..." answered my friend in a dreading tone, hanging is head a little.

"Believe me, doctor, I would really rather not be here either," I told him, looking back to him. "But we must, for Iona."

"I know, Basil," he replied, nodding his head. "I know."

When we were right up against the door, we just stood there and stared down at the brass knob for a few seconds before I said, "Well, shall we?"

My friend hesitated for a moment before answering, "Ready when you are, old boy."

I nodded slowly, feeling my dread growing in the pit of my stomach, before reaching a hand out and turning the knob, opening the door. Upon walking inside, I was indeed met with a dreadfully familiar site. In amongst the smoky room were gangster mice sitting at the tables, some of them sipping on beer and laughing amongst themselves, some playing cards. Some of them were drinking at the bar. Some were also smoking cigarettes, evidently the cause of the stifling miasma all around and above us. At the very end of the room, a mouse was playing an upbeat ragtime tune on the piano, to which an octopus was tap dancing and juggling little variously coloured balls at the same time. At some point, a drunken mouse made some very inappropriate gesture to the barmaid, who, in return, struck him across the face with the back of her hand, knocking him off his seat. Indeed, this was the very same scene we had been confronted with when we came here during the Flaversham case.

Striking a match against a wooden pillar, I whispered to my friend, "Same as last time, Dawson." Lighting my cigarette with the match, I waved it to put it out and took a puff from the cigarette before continuing, "Stay close and do as I do."

"Yes, Basil," he answered in the same hushed tone.

Sticking the cigarette back into my mouth, I stuffed both hands into my pockets towards towards an empty table I had spotted with my shoulders hunched up. Dawson followed behind in the exact same posture as we made our way towards said table, ignoring the many murderous glares from the fiends around us.

"Duck!" I hissed at one point back to the doctor when I saw one of the ruffians aiming his knife at us. We did so just in the nick of time, for just as we had sunk to the floor, the weapon flew over our heads and embedded itself in the wooden floor behind us.

"Thanks, Basil," whispered Dawson as we both stood.

"Don't mention it, Dawson," I answered before the two of us gingerly approached our table and took our seats. "Well, now that we're here," I began as my gaze switched to the bar. "It looks as though all we can do now is wait for some kind of brawl to start up. That way, the bartender will be distracted, attempting to try and calm it down. This will allow us to go, without being noticed, over to the bar and climb down through the trapdoor which leads to Ratigan's secret lair, where Iona is being held prisoner."

"But, Basil," my friend began doubtfully. "Do you really think waiting is such a good idea? It might take all night and we'll need all the time we have if we hope to get her back at all. Can't we just cause one ourselves?"

"That would look far too suspicious," I told him, shaking my head. "No, doctor. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the easier our mission will be."

"Oh, well, you may be right," agreed my friend reluctantly.

Eventually the octopus' the number came to a close as he caught all the balls he was juggling one by one in his hat before taking a bow. As all the rogues in the audience started booing him and hurling all levels of verbal abuse at him, I wondered why he continued to perform that act here, since, upon watching him our first time here, it was a massive flop. Then I began to wonder if it was because he had no other alternative to earn his living. I pitied the poor fellow as he ran as fast as he could off the stage to avoid being struck by any of the knives, bottles, darts and rotten vegetables thrown in his direction.

"What's your pleasure, mates?" asked the barmaid who had come up to us, wiping her hands on her apron, at that moment. I was pleased to see that she didn't recognise us from before, proving once again that my abilities of disguise were indeed perfect.

"Two pints," I answered in a gruff cockney accent. "Oh, and just out of sheer interest, what other sorts of entertainment can we expect to see tonight?"

"Oh, y'know," she began. "Just the usual sort of rubbish, though apparently we've got a new showgirl starting here tonight."

New showgirl? That didn't sound good. Though despite my growing fear, I was able to remain in character and just raised an eyebrow in false interest. "New showgirl, eh? What's she like, d'you know?"

The barmaid just shrugged. "Dunno," she simply said. "It's only her first night here, and she hasn't been on yet. Though I have heard that she sings, just like that Miss Kitty wench who's been boring us with that old 'Let Me Be Good to You' number of hers over and over again for years now. Hopefully she'll give us something a little different."

When she had finished, Dawson and I looked at each other. I was certain he could see the fear in my eyes, just like I could see it in his own. I really did begin to hope then that this new showgirl wasn't Iona.

"I'll just go and get ya your pints, boys," said the barmaid, smiling, before making her way back towards the bar.

We looked back towards the stage, the mouse at the piano started playing a slower, yet still upbeat tune as the curtain was pulled back again to reveal a team of acrobatic albino mice, doing somersaults, supports and all other kinds of movements. They also flopped, for they got the exact same treatment as the octopus from before. They did aspire to continue though, despite the fact that some of them got hit by the vegetables  
thrown at them. The curtain fell back on them all the same, and the music stopped.

The pianist, with a look of anxiety on his face, began flicking through his many pages of sheet music in front of him. When he reached the very end, he stood, climbed up onto the stage and disappeared behind the curtain. While he was gone, all the mice in the pub, including Dawson and myself, started looking at each other, whispering confused questions to each other about why he had just done that. He came back a few moments later, with a few more sheets of paper in his hands. Jumping down from the stage, he sat back down at the piano and set the new set of sheet music out in front of him. He took a few moments to examine it, presumably to get to know this new piece a little before starting to play it. During that time, I grew suspicious that all this was for the new showgirl the barmaid had spoken of.

Finally, he began to play a slow, poignant melody, still looking back now and then at the new sheet music, as the curtain was pulled back again to reveal a female mouse with tan fur. At first, I couldn't see all of her face because her head was bowed and the top half of her face was concealed underneath the hood of her black cloak, which she held round her shoulders. She was wearing a long, flowing black dress with a red corset-like mid section and ruffled cuffs of the same colour at the very end of the sleeves which only came down to her elbows. The trim around her shoulders was also ruffled, but like the rest of her dress, it was black. She also had what looked like a beige-coloured rag, stained with blood, wrapped tightly around her right hand. I knew that this could only have been the new showgirl, though I couldn't help but feel that her dress seemed a little unusual for that kind of profession.

When the pianist had finished playing the four bar intro, the girl began to sing, in a voice which sounded terribly familiar.

_I will wander till the end of time  
Torn away from you_

As she sung, she raised her head and pulled back her hood, revealing the rest of her face and confirming my fears; the new showgirl that had been hired to perform for the pub goers in the Rat Trap, it was Iona.


	14. Chapter 14

Immediately after Iona had sung those first two lines, the drummer in the band behind the piano played a short solo before he and the pianist played together, quickening the tempo of the melody, though still somehow still managed to make it sound poignant. They only played by themselves for about a few bars before the rest of the band joined in as Iona began to sing again.

_I pulled away to face the pain_

_I close my eyes and drift away_

As I watched her standing up there, singing her heart out to all the mice in the pub, I could definitely make out more than just a hint of pain and despair, not just on her face, but in her voice and her body language. Talented though she was, I really did not think I would enjoy this performance at all, the way I did the night she sang for us in my sitting room back at Baker Street. How could I when I could sense that she was suffering a great deal? My heart went out to the poor girl there and then and I wished I could just go up there, reveal myself to her and just take her away from this awful place, now that I had found her and knew that she was at least safe. However, I knew that doing so in front of all the mice here could only land her into even more danger, the very _last _thing I wanted. So, reluctantly, I decided to just stay put and forced myself to endure the rest of this heartbreaking performance, wondering then how long it would be before the time would be right for Dawson and I to make our next move.

_Over the fear that I will never find a way_

_To heal my soul_

It was at that moment that all the sorrow in my heart began to change into anger. What had that filthy rat done or said to her that would cause her such heartache and misery? I knew that it wouldn't have been below him to treat her so shamefully. After all, there was no evil scheme he wouldn't concoct, no depravity he wouldn't commit.

However, my question was answered when I remembered the bloodstained rag wrapped tightly around her right hand when she held them both up to her heart as she sang those two lines. It was upon remembering this that I was aware of my anger slowly beginning to escalate into rage as I suspected that that slimy rat might have been the one that inflicted that wound on her. Though despite my anger, I fought to remain in character, determined not to let myself explode into a fit of rage. I feared that that would blow my cover, possibly resulting in our failing in this mission. The most I allowed myself to do to express such emotions was by clenching my hand into a tight fist, which trembled against the wooden table. Dawson must've noticed this, for he quickly put his hand on my shaking arm. Turning to face him, I could read sympathy as well as sternness in his eyes. He knew how much Iona meant to me, so he obviously would have understood my anger. Though at the same time, he wished to warn me to remain calm and concentrate on our task. I was miles ahead of him of course, though I still appreciated his gesture all the same. I smiled at him and the two of us turned back to my poor, unfortunate love singing there up on that stage.

_And I will wander till the end of time_

_Torn away from you_

_My heart is broken_

_Sweet sleep, my dark angel_

_Deliver us from sorrow's hold_

As I sang my heart out, I occasionally took a look around my audience. Despite the fact that I was being made to sing one of my favourite songs ever, a song about heartache and despair, still not knowing how Ratigan could possibly have gotten a hold of it, I can't say I was surprised to see that none of their wicked faces portrayed any emotions of pity or sadness. This was the London underworld after all, which meant that this audience would've consisted only of the most despicable mice in the city; from muggers to murderers and no doubt rapists as well. So there was no wonder that none of them seemed to be moved by my performance. Instead their expressions remained cold, though I was so sure that I could see a hint of lust in some, if not all, of their eyes. It was then that I was just expecting one of them to try and climb up on to this stage to abuse me any second, a thought which frightened me to no end. However, I managed somehow to prevent that fear from showing and continued to sing. I decided that it would be best to lower my head down and close my eyes, mainly so that I wouldn't have to look at their lascivious stares anymore, as I sang the next line.

_Over my heart..._

_Oh..._

I felt a lump beginning to form in my throat at that moment, which caused my voice to waver a little. Though despite this, I resisted the need to burst into tears all over again, but I couldn't seem to stop a few tears from falling down my face. So many emotions were just running through me at that moment; sadness, despair, fear, devastation, grief, heartache, sorrow, regret, hopelessness, even anger. It was a wonder I was able to control myself and continue to sing as loud and as clearly as I possibly could. I was even surprised to find that whilst my voice was trembling, I had managed to remain in tune. In times before when I had tried to sing whilst crying, or feeling that I was about to cry, I had never managed that before. Also, I had only rehearsed this song back at Ratigan's lair for a few hours before we all made our way here, so I have to admit I was quite impressed with myself that I was able to keep it all together, despite how little time I had to practice. Though despite that, I still found no real reason to feel good about myself anymore, thanks to my current situation. I was very pleased though that the lump in my throat quickly went away, allowing me to sing with ease once more.

_I can't go on living this way_

_But I can't go back the way I came_

As I watched Iona singing, I was certain I could see a few tears running down her face, causing the dark make up around her eyes to smudge a little. I thought I could also hear her voice quivering as if she was about to cry, though I was highly impressed that she was able to stop herself from doing so and just kept on singing. I was most certain then that she was being forced to perform in this awful place. No respectable lady such as herself would have any desire to even set foot in a place like this and I knew how much Iona feared to be in an area notorious for its many criminal inhabitants. Also, I could tell that she plain was just in no mood to be singing at all, no matter the location. At first, I was willing to consider her coming out here and giving this performance in front of so many evil rodents, leaving herself completely vulnerable to them as an act of bravery. Though, as I thought more about it, I thought then that maybe because she had been forced by that slimy, contemptible sewer rat that she was only obeying him out of fear. Could he have posed some kind of threat against her which he would not hesitate to carry out if she defied him? If so, I was even more determined then to make him pay for the way he had treated her.

_Chained to this fear that I will never find a way_

_To heal my soul_

_And I will wonder till the end of time_

_Half alive without you_

To my surprise, as Iona belted out that last line, she clenched her eyes tightly shut, causing a couple of more tears to fall. Not only that, the pain and heartache seemed to me to be more emphasised than ever, even as she sang those four simple words. What could she have meant by "Half alive without you"? Did she really have no hope at all left of ever being freed from Ratigan's grasp? Had she lost faith in me completely that I would come to rescue her? If so, then why? Could it be that the professor had told her some vile lie, which meant to her that she would be doomed to remain his prisoner for life? What had he told her? Try as I may, even I could not seem to work out exactly what could've been going through the poor girl's head at that moment.

_My heart is broken_

_Sweet sleep, my dark angel_

_Deliver us_

I was given an even better idea however as she sang that last verse. Whilst she belted out that second line, she looked up towards the ceiling, raising both her arms upwards also, as if she was addressing the spirit of a loved one ascending up into Heaven. It became a little clearer to me then why she seemed to be in a state of grief. The professor must have told her about the death of whoever that loved one might have been. Had he lied to her about that, or had he really killed them himself? I had no way of knowing. Besides, why would she do that if she had told me before from one of her past conversations that she was not a religious mouse and therefore did not believe in such things as life after death? What could've caused her to change her mind? Was she perhaps desperate to find some source of comfort? Poor girl, I could only imagine what she must have been going through at that moment.

_Change_

_Open your eyes to the light_

_I denied it all so long_

_Oh, so long_

What had I denied? The fact that there was no way home for me at all, of course. Regardless on whether all this stuff with Ratigan had happened or not, there was still no way on Earth that I would ever be able to find a way back to my home in the 21st Century. How I had ended up here in the first place, I still didn't know. In all the time that I had been here, I still couldn't work out how it had happened. No matter how many times I had racked my brains out to think, and no matter how much time I had spent doing so each time, I just couldn't find an answer. Yet, with the notion that I had somehow ended up here sort of gave me a bit of hope that maybe I would be able to return home. So I did all I could to help keep that hope alive, no matter how pointless it might've been. If there was a way for me to end up in this universe, then surely there must've been a way for me to go back, right? But how? How did I end up here? How could I go back? I had been unconscious between being in my room and finding myself in that alleyway, so I didn't see how it all happened. I really had no idea what had caused it, and without any clues, along with the certainty that even Basil wouldn't have been able to help me, it should've been clear to me from the start that I had no hope in hell of ever going home. It had taken until now for that painful reality to finally sink in, even if it was doing so very slowly.

_Say goodbye_

_Goodbye_

As I sang that one word, the lump began to return to my throat, causing my voice to quiver a little again. But still I fought it. Even whilst holding onto the final note, I refused to let it interfere with my singing. So I just sang it out as loud as I could as I looked back up towards the ceiling. The reason why it had reappeared was because, in my mind, I was forcing myself to say goodbye to Basil. He had died whilst trying to save me, and I couldn't even get to say goodbye to him, and I felt that this might've been my last chance. It was pretty useless though, considering that he wouldn't have been able to hear me, but I still really wanted to get it out. On top of that, I also felt I had to bid farewell to all my loved ones back in my own world, for I would never see any of them again either. I would never feel the love they had for me over the course of my life again, and neither would I ever feel such love come from Basil again either. In fact, no kind person, or rodent for that matter, would ever be able to show me love again for the rest of my life, for I was now being held prisoner in a place where the rodents weren't capable of such a thing. All I would get now was abuse and humiliation. That was the life I would be living now and one which I absolutely dreaded above all else.

After about a few seconds, my voice finally gave into the lump in my throat as I finished singing that last line. I then began to sing the next one in a breathy, sobbing voice as a few more tears fell, though I was surprisingly able to regain control of my breathing and escalate my voice as I sang the rest of the verse.

_My heart is broken_

_Release me, I can't go on_

_Deliver us_

_My heart is broken_

_Sweet sleep, my dark angel_

_Deliver us_

The barmaid had returned to our table with our drinks as Iona began to sing that verse. Dawson and I barely noticed her, for the two of us had watched my love so intently as she stood and sung out at the top of her lungs whenever she could up on that stage. No doubt my friend's heart had gone out to her just as mine had. It wasn't until the barmaid casually placed the drinks in front of us that we took notice of her.

"That'll be four pounds, fellas," she said.

"Here," I replied, putting my hand into my pocket, taking out all the change I had left and handed it to her. "Keep the change," I told her, still maintaining my cockney accent.

"Thanks, luv," she answered, giving me a sly wink as she took the change off me before turning and making her way back towards the bar.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Dawson picking up his drink and was just about to take a sip before I quickly shot my hand out, touching the rim of his beer stein to stop him.

"Careful, doctor," I warned him in a hushed tone. "Remember what happened last time you did that." I was referring of course to the last time we were here when our drinks had been drugged. I was wise enough to taste a small drop of mine to detect the drug whilst Dawson downed his in one swig, causing him to succumb instantly to its effects. Thinking about the disastrous results from it, the last thing we needed now was for the same thing to happen again.

"Oh yes, quite right, Basil," answered my friend, shaking his head solemnly, indicating that he knew all too well what I was talking about.

"Good." Dipping my finger into the beige-coloured liquid, I brought the tip up to my mouth and licked it. Before letting what little of the beer that was in my mouth slip down my throat, I took a few seconds to allow myself to really taste the strong liquid. I was much relieved to find that our drinks had not been tainted this time. Signalling to my friend that all was well, we both took a generous sip of our drinks as we turned back to Iona, who was still on the stage, though it appeared that her number was just about to come to a close.

_My heart is broken_

_Sweet sleep, my dark angel_

_Deliver us from sorrow's hold_

As Iona's singing ceased, as did the music that accompanied it, plunging the entire pub into silence once more. Barely even a split second had passed before all the mice around us erupted into an applause. One even called something very sordid over to her, which I will not dare to repeat here, causing me to send a deathly glare in his direction. Though thankfully he seemed too drunk to notice me. I had also hoped that Iona had not heard him over the din. Looking back up at her, I was relieved that she didn't seem to. She just stared off into space with that sorrowful look that she had the entire time, obviously too swallowed up in her despair to notice anything and anyone around her any longer. She gave a slight bow before quickly walking off the side of the stage.

Somehow managing to down the rest of my beer, I slammed by beer stein onto the table before turning to my friend and saying, "You're right, Dawson. We _should _start a brawl of our own. I simply cannot bare to see Iona suffering like this any longer!"

"B-but, Basil," he stammered, watching as I stood. "Are you sure?"

"You cannot change my mind, Dawson," I simply said. "We are wasting enough time as it is."

With that, I picked up my beer stein and began to stagger towards the bar, giving the impression of being drunk. I was about to pass another table where a few thugs were sitting, playing cards. Passing the biggest of them, who was seated with his back to me, I saw him picking up his beer stein to take a drink from it. I picked that moment to deliberately trip over my feet and stumble into him, causing him to spill his drink all over himself.

He turned back to me and sent me a deadly glare. "Oy, you!" he shouted. "Watch we're yer goin', will ya!"

"Sorry 'bout that, guv," I replied in the best slurred, drunken voice I could manage, not really looking him in the eye. Putting on a rather convincing hiccup, I then added. "Didn't see ya there."

The thug merely stood from his chair, grabbed me by the collar and pointed to the spilled beer over his shirt as he continued to yell, "Look what ya did, ya stupid, clumsy bastard!"

"I'm sorry, mate, honestly!" I pleaded with my hands up, still keeping up the drunken act. "If ye let me go, I can go over and get another beer for ya."

"Here's what you'll be getting' _from _me," he growled, balling his free hand into a fist and aiming it at my face.

I was relieved at that moment that there was another table of mice behind me. Once the mouse was sure he had a lock on my face, I saw his fist instantly coming towards me. Before it could even touch me, I quickly ducked, somehow able to free myself from his strong grip, which then sent his fist flying into the back of the head with the mouse behind me. When the mouse he had just punched turned round to glare at him, I quickly crawled out of the way and watched as he stood up and approached the fist mouse, who was taller than him, never taking his glare off him. The taller mouse began to back away in fear.

"What ye have to go an do that for, eh!?" he demanded up into the taller mouse's face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the taller one tried to apologise frantically. "I was aiming at another mouse who -"

"Don't gimme any of yer excuses, mate!" shouted the other one, still walking up to his victim, causing him to back up into his table.

Before the taller mouse could say any more, the shorter one's fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling and falling into the table next to him. He hit the table with so much impact that he knocked it over, scattering cards, coins and poker chips everywhere. The angered mice that sat there stood up, smashed their beer bottles against the bar or one of the nearby tables, which also annoyed the mice drinking there, and threatened the second mouse with the broken ends. One thing led to another and soon, every mouse in the pub was fighting with one another. The bartender, clearly very annoyed at this, got out a club and ran out into the ocean of battling thugs, followed by the horrified barmaid.

"Perfect, Dawson!" I smiled back to my friend, who I had managed to make my way safely back to during that whole build up. "He's left the bar, now, let us get to that trapdoor now! There's not a moment to lose!"

Before the good doctor could react, I grabbed his wrist and the two of us very gingerly, but quickly as well, made our way over to the bar, our heads below the level of the tables to avoid being hit by any of the bottles, knives, darts and even bullets that flew above us. Once we were there, I ushered my friend towards the trapdoor as I took a quick look behind me to make sure no one had seen us. To my relief, they all seemed to be too occupied in giving each other such a thrashing to even notice. So, without further ado, I followed Dawson down through the trap door, slowly letting it close after me, safely closing us off from the violent scuffle going on in that dreadful pub.


	15. Chapter 15

For about a few seconds, we remained crouched under the trap door, listening to the brawl above before we turned round to face an old, rusty pipe, out of which little water was pouring. Having been here before, we no longer needed that sight, nor the foul smell that surrounded us, to tell us that we were back in the sewers, and that that pipe led to the hiding place of the nefarious Professor Ratigan.

"Seems empty enough," I whispered to my friend. "Though we must still be as quiet as we can. You never know where some of Ratigan's goons could be lurking, or when."

"Righto, Basil," Dawson replied before we both tiptoed down the wooden stairs, hopped some of the rocks sticking out of the water surrounding us and climbed up into the opening of the pipe.

"Grab onto my tail, Dawson," I whispered back to him. "And follow along."

Once I felt my friend doing as I told him, grabbing onto my tail, I proceeded to crawl forward through the pipe with Dawson following close behind me, taking us into a pitch black tunnel. Though thankfully we mice have a good sense of smell, which I was able to use to guide our way through the darkness. However, when we had to climb upwards through the pipe, that proved to be a rather difficult task, since the inside of the pipe was slippery, thanks to the slime and goodness knows what else that covered it. Indeed, it was a very unpleasant journey through the pipe, but we forced ourselves to endure it, remembering that, at this point, this was the only way to reach Iona.

Finally, we came to the drain, through which some light was shining. With all our strength, we pushed the heavy, metal drain up and were met with yet another familiar sight we had hoped never to see again: a huge rum barrel with the letter "R" painted in bright yellow on the front, above the entrance which the rodents who lived there made. This was the secret lair of Professor Ratigan, my arch nemesis. However, unlike last time, there were two thugs standing at either side of the entrance, smoking cigarettes and talking away to each other. Ratigan must have put them there to stand guard.

"Dash it all, Basil," whispered Dawson in a frustrated manner. "How are we going to get past those guards?"

"Don't worry, Dawson," I answered him as we climbed up through the drain and carefully placed it back down. "I have just the plan. We'll just have to go back into character a few moments more."

We did so as we stuffed both our hands into our pockets and began making our way towards the guards with our shoulders hunched.

"Oy, mates!" I said to them in my cockney accent, stopping their conversations and bringing their attention to us. "Is the professor about?"

"Naw, mate," one of them answered, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "He's not 'ere just now. He's down at the Rat Trap. He wanted to watch the new showgirl's first performance."

Just then, my heart filled up with even more anger. Why would that rat wish to watch Iona's performance back at the Rat Trap? Did he want to make sure that she was doing what she was told, or was it for a completely different reason? Though despite my growing anger, I managed to remain in character as I nodded and said, "Ah... Shame. There was something we wanted to talk to 'im about."

"And what is it you wanna talk to the professor about?" asked the thug, tapping his cigarette with his finger to knock off the excess ash, as he eyed me suspiciously.

"I just wanted to ask if 'im if 'e was needin' more mice to join 'is gang," I answered, allowing just a little bit of hostility to show. "And if 'e was, we'd be more than 'appy to work for 'im."

Both thugs just looked at Dawson and I suspiciously for about a few seconds before the first one finally said, "Hmm... I dunno. I think the professor pretty much 'as all the mice 'e needs just now."

"What's that over there!?" I immediately shouted, pointing past the guards. Startled expressions crossed both their faces as they instantly looked towards the direction in which I was pointing. "Get them Dawson!" I shouted again.

Thankfully my friend knew what I was talking about, for before the two thugs could look back towards us, we both grabbed a thug each and started beating them with our fists.

Naturally, I would've said that my heart had sunk even further as I was being led back towards the lair by Ratigan and his gang. However, because of everything that had just happened, being taken away from my family, told that Basil had just been murdered, forced to join Ratigan's gang and made to sing in that horrible pub, I really didn't think that that was possible. I just felt completely numb inside and I wasn't even sure what to feel anymore, or indeed what feelings were. It seemed that I had let them all out already, so that all that was left now was to do what I was told by the professor without question, like some kind of robot which he could control and command whenever he pleased. I was certain that that would've suited him right down to the ground. So I merely sighed quietly when the familiar barrel with the huge "R" sign on it, the entrance to Ratigan's lair, came into view. God only knew what would happen when I had been taken back into that awful place.

When we reached the entrance to the lair, Ratigan approached the two guards leaning against the wood with their heads down and their hats over their eyes. "Gentlemen," he said. "Take Miss Campbell here to her room, will you? She's had such a long night and may be tired, so I think she ought to retire early tonight."

"Right, professor," the taller, younger one said as they both stood to their full height. "C'mon, you," he said to me as he ushered me forward.

Without thinking, I stepped towards them and the three of us walked through the entrance, across the bright throne room towards the door at the end. On our way there, I couldn't help but feel something slightly familiar about these two. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was definitely the feeling that I had met these two mice somewhere before. I couldn't figure out why though, because I didn't see the guards that Ratigan had posted at the entrance upon leaving for the Rat Trap, and as far as I could remember, there couldn't have been any other time when I could've met them. However, I chose not to say anything about it as I followed them through the door which took us into the corridor.

As the shorter, older looking one and I passed through that door and began walking down the corridor, we looked back as the taller one just stopped and took a minute to look through said door, as if to see if the coast was clear, before closing it and catching up to rejoin us. We then all continued down the corridor towards the bedroom which Ratigan had given me, though we seemed to be walking more slowly than when we were crossing the throne room. Not only that, the taller one seemed to be getting closer to me, which made me very uncomfortable. Before I could move away to get some of my personal space back, I felt a hand, which I was sure belonged to the taller mouse, lightly touching my back, fingers beginning to gently run up to my shoulder.

And then I lost it.

In a flash, I had managed to break that sleaze's hand away as I looked him in the face, not even trying to hide my anger and disgust at the way he had just tried to feel me up. I may have been forced to sell myself to these slime balls now that I was a showgirl, but that did _not _give him the right to try and have his way with me when, as far as I knew, I was off duty. Especially after the shock I had just gotten earlier that night, which I was certain I would never recover from.

"Hey, you!" I shouted furiously. "What do you think you're doing, you filthy bastard!? Just try that again, and I'll..."

At that moment, I balled my hand into a fist, which I then swung towards the tall mouse's face, though to my surprise, before my fist was anywhere near even touching his nose, he had grabbed it firmly in his own hand.

"Calm down, darling!" he said in a voice which sounded very familiar indeed. His accent, I felt, sounded a bit too posh for a London underworld criminal. "It's only me!"

For a split second, I was confused as to why he just said that, as if I should've recognised him. However, the instant he did, he removed his hat and began to rub his face, removing what looked like greasepaint. When his hand had wiped away the last of his make up, my heart took a gigantic leap when I recognised him immediately! Could it be true? Was Basil, the very mouse who Ratigan had told me was brutally murdered by his thugs, still be alive!?

"My dear," he said softly to me. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Indeed, I almost _felt _as if I had just seen one, that of my beloved Basil. Though I sincerely _hoped_ that he wasn't just a ghost. For about a few seconds, all I could do was just stand there with my eyes and mouth wide open, completely and utterly speechless, before I felt myself becoming very dizzy from the shock until everything around me just turned black.

It seemed like a moment later that I was brought round yet again by the strong smell of lavender, as well as being aware of the source of the scent being waved gently under my nose. I groaned and fought to open my eyes as I slowly became more and more awake.

"She's coming to," I heard another voice I recognised say above me.

At that, I pretty much had to force my eyes open to see who the kind voice came from. At first, my vision was very blurry, but it thankfully cleared very quickly and I instantly recognised the face of Dr. Dawson looking down at me with concern.

"Dr. Dawson...?" I said weakly. I was still a little tired, though needless to say, I was very happy to see that he was still alive and that I was in his care.

"Yes, Miss Campbell," he smiled, nodding.

"What... what happened...?" I asked.

"You fainted, my dear," he answered. "Though why, I can't for the life of me understand."

Then, instantly remembering seeing Basil, which was the very reason why I had fainted in the first place, I was brought to my next question: "Where's Basil?"

"Here I am, darling," I heard Basil's voice say beside me. I turned to face the direction from where his voice came and saw him kneeling down beside me, smiling tenderly at me as he put his arm around my shoulders. That confirmed it. I wasn't dreaming. Basil really _was_ alive and he and Dawson had come to rescue me.

"Oh, Basil..." I breathed. I was just so happy because of it all that I just couldn't stop myself from reaching over and touching his face. "Is it really true? Are you really alive?"

Basil just chuckled as he placed his hand on top of mine. "Of course I am, darling," he smiled.

Before he could say anymore, I just threw myself at him and wrapped my arms around him, immediately bursting into a fit of tears again. Only this time, it was tears of utter joy. Basil returned my embrace and held me tightly. I just remained where I was and relished the feeling, since, five minutes earlier, I was so sure that I would never feel the warmth of Basil's embrace again. But now I was and it felt more wonderful than ever.

I really wished Basil and I could remain that way forever, though sadly, that was not to be so, for he soon pushed me away softly and looked deeply into my eyes, his expression had become more serious.

"But tell me, Iona," he said. "What made you think that I wasn't? What vile lies did that filthy rat tell you?"

It took a few moments for the lump in my throat to subside, enabling me o speak again. "He... told me that he had his thugs murder you as you tried to save me, when you saw them carrying me off. He then forced me to join his gang and made me sing in that awful pub."

"Was that all he did to you, Iona?" he asked again.

I hesitated, confused at first as to why Basil would ask me that. "Well, yes," I answered.

"Are you sure?" he asked me again, his tone becoming more stern.

"Yes, of course," I replied. "Why?"

"Then how do you account for that wound on your hand?" he asked, motioning to my right hand, with the bloodstained rags around it. I immediately felt incredibly stupid for having forgotten all about that.

"Oh... _I _did that," I told him.

Basil just looked at me with one of his eyebrows raised for second before asking, "You...?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Before my performance, I was in one of the dressing rooms and was just so angry at myself for what I thought had happened to you that I punched one of the mirrors and cut myself. But Ratigan himself hasn't laid a finger on me, if that's what you're worried about."

At that moment, a hint of relief began to show in Basil's eyes, though I could tell that he was still furious with Ratigan for the way he had manipulated me, and frankly, so was I now that I knew the truth. Though I was still very confused as to why he would want me to join his gang.

"Well, the important thing is that you're unharmed," he said. Looking back down at my bandaged hand, he added, "Well, up to a point." Taking my by the hand, we both stood up as he went on, "But all the same, we'd best get you out of here now. I've posted policemice around the area above and our emerging to the surface will be their signal to come down and arrest Ratigan and his gang. Besides, the sooner we get you back to Baker Street, the better."

He only took a couple of steps forward before, again without being able to stop myself, I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and buried my face into his chest.

"I'm just so glad you're alive, Basil," I said, feeling the need to cry slowly returning to me again. "I love you."

Basil returned my embrace again before whispering softly to me, "I love you too."

At that moment, I couldn't seem to stop myself from crying again. Though thankfully, all that came out of me this time was small sobs. I was just so happy to know that Basil was still alive and that he was now about to take me safely back away from this dreadful place and back to his lodgings at Baker Street. After a few more seconds of crying, I felt gentle fingers touching me under my chin, lifting my face upwards and I found myself looking up into Basil's beautiful jade green eyes, filled with love and tenderness. My cries had ceased as my heart began to flutter as the detective placed his hand on my cheek. I instantly smiled as I began to melt into the warmth it brought. Basil smiled back down at me as he slowly started to lean his face down towards mine. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips a little, waiting eagerly for the gentle kiss which I knew was coming before...

"Oh, how very touching," said a sinister voice in mock adoration. "The star-crossed lover are together again at long last."

Both Basil and I immediately turned to face the direction the voice was coming from and saw none other than Professor Ratigan himself walking down the corridor towards us, a sadistic smirk on his face. It was in that instant that my heart began to fill up with horror again as I leaned further into Basil, who just pulled me into a protective embrace as he sent a deadly glare in the rat's direction.

"And how fitting that they should reunite here, only to be together one last time," the professor went on, still smirking wickedly at us. "For I am afraid that there is no escape, for _any _of you."


	16. Chapter 16

"Ratigan! You fiend!" Basil shouted to the professor, all the anger could definitely be heard in his voice. "I don't know how on earth you survived the fall from Big Ben, but how dare you treat Iona in such an appalling manner! I have placed policemice all around your lair and when I send her and Dawson here back up to the streets above, that will be their signal to come down here and arrest you and your gang of underworld rogues! Before morning, I'll see to it that you are all put behind bars where you well and truly belong!"

Though, of course, Ratigan appeared to be unfazed by Basil's threat, which I know all too well would be a promise as well. In fact, the professor just chuckled. "So confident, as is always the case with you, dear Basil. Though I'm afraid that even if you did ever manage to have me put into prison, it wouldn't be forever, for me and my boys would soon find a way to break free."

"Matters not," answered Basil, in the exact same tone as before. "For I shall lock you up a thousand times if I have to!" Turning to Dr. Dawson, he then ordered, "Dawson, kindly take Iona back up to the surface whilst I deal with this scoundrel."

I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned back to see Dr. Dawson. Taking me by the hand, the good doctor began leading me from Basil's side and forward, before I stopped in my tracks and pulled my hand away.

"Wait," I said. Turning back to face the professor, I then summoned up some courage and said to him, "Before we leave, there are just a few things I want to know. I know now that you lied to me about Basil's death, and what's more, I know for a fact that you know a great deal about me. So tell me, how do you know my name? How did you know where to find me? And most importantly, why did you try to force me to become a member of your gang?"

Ratigan just chuckled again. "It appears that I am being interrogated. Well, if that is indeed the case, then I shall tell you all you wish to know."

With that, Basil, Dr. Dawson and I stood very still, waiting eagerly for the professor to answer our questions.

"But first of all," the rat went on. "How I survived the fall from Big Ben. You will remember, dear Basil, that when Inspector Vole and his group of policemice searched the ground around the bottom of the clock tower, that no trace of my body was found?"

Basil, not even taking his deadly glare off his archenemy for a split second, just nodded. "Yes, I remember it well," he answered. "And it is obvious to me now why that would be, since you're still alive and well."

"Well done, Basil," replied Ratigan, in a rather patronising tone as he clapped his hands. "On my way down, I was saved by an owl flying past. Before I was even close to hitting the ground, it grabbed me with its claws and carried me off to Regent's Park, where it had made a nest for itself in one of the trees. Upon seeing its chicks sitting in that nest, waiting patiently for their mother to bring their supper to them, I struggled, bit and clawed on the feathery monster's legs until she let me go, and I went tumbling down the branches. With my claws, I was able to grab hold of the trunk and climb down as quickly and as carefully as I could. Needless to say that when I reached the ground, I ran as fast I could away from that tree. I then jumped down the nearest drain and returned to my lair, where my men took such good care of me during my recovery from the trauma I had suffered from the whole incident. Oh, how long it took before I was back to my old self again, Basil, on account of you and your friends' meddling in my plan to rule Mousedom!"

When Ratigan said that last sentence, I could see rage starting to build up inside him and I feared that he was about to explode into a fit of vicious madness, similar to when he did during the battle on Big Ben I had seen at the end of the movie. Though thankfully, he managed to stop himself and took a deep breath to calm himself down before continuing.

"And that, my dear Miss Campbell," he said, turning to face me again, giving me a sinister smile that sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine. "Is where _you _come in."

Just then, I started to feel very sick in my stomach as the fear grew in me of what he could've meant by that. I had no idea what any of this had to do with me, though I hadn't long to wait to find out.

"You see, Basil," the rat went on, turning back to the detective. "During my recovery, I had been racking my brains to try and come up with some sort of plan to carry out my revenge upon you. Though for a very long time, I simply could not come up with anything good enough. It seemed at first that I had tried every possible scheme I could possibly come up with, all of which were in vain. Even after I had fully recovered, I was still at a loss for any decent plans. So, not knowing what else to do, I sent one of my men to sneak into Miss Rosemary Harrison's library in Oxford Street to see if they could find any books on witchcraft for me, instructing him to bring them to me after she had closed for the night, but in a way that would leave no trace of himself behind."

"So, it was _you _who was responsible for the break in to Miss Harrison's library!" cried Basil.

Ratigan just chuckled again. "Why yes, dear Basil. That it was."

"Even so," said Dr. Dawson, stepping forward. "I don't see what any of this has to do with Miss Campbell."

The professor's smile just got wider in response. "Then allow me to show you," he said, lifting up his hand and pointing his index finger upwards.

He turned to face me again and before I could react, he pointed said finger in my direction and a bright, yellow flash shot out of his finger towards me. When it made contact with my body, I closed my eyes and cried out as I began to glow all over with an intense blinding light.

"Iona!" I heard Basil cry just then.

However, I was quickly aware of my bright aura fading around me. I opened my eyes and looked down over myself. I was shocked to see that I was no longer in my black and red dress. I was back in my Evanescence t-shirt, my black sports joggers and my pink sneakers, the very same clothes I was wearing when I fell asleep in my room back in the 21st Century and when I woke up in the alleyway across the road from Baker Street!

"So, Miss Campbell," I heard Ratigan say to me, causing me to look back up at him, only to see him still smiling evilly at me. "How does it feel to be back in your normal, everyday clothing from your own world?" When he had finished his question, another maniacal chuckle escaped him.

"What is this trickery, Ratigan!?" demanded Basil through gritted teeth.

"Oh, this is no trick, Basil," Ratigan answered, shaking his head. "And I know you won't take my word for it all the same, so it's a good thing that I have some proof to confirm this."

With this, he clicked his fingers and almost immediately, Charlie and Neville appeared from behind him, each holding and arm of a bound and gagged Mrs. Judson, who was grunting and struggling to break herself free from them. When her eyes fell upon me, they widened with utter surprise. Her struggling ceased when the three of them stopped right next to the professor.

"Mrs. Judson! No!" cried Basil, utterly horrified.

Charlie sniggered to himself as he pulled the landlady's gag from her mouth and shoved her forward, causing her to fall forward and land on her knees, where she kneeled weeping pitifully.

"Why you...!" I growled, feeling my burning anger growing rapidly inside me at the way he had treated the kind and innocent landlady. Unable to contain it, I went to run forward towards the professor to jump him, only to be held back by Dr. Dawson.

So I could only stand and watch as the slimy rat knelt down beside the elderly mouse, lowering his head so it was level with hers and said very close to her ear, "Look closely, Mrs. Judson. Weren't those the clothes Miss Campbell was wearing when you found her not far from your home?"

Mrs. Judson hesitated as she just stared at me for a few seconds before answering, "Y-yes... Yes, it is."

My heart rate began to increase in speed and I began to shake all over as I realised that the secret I had been hiding from Basil, Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson was now finally coming out.

"But how on earth did you manage to...?" asked Basil, before Ratigan cut him off.

"Simple," he said, standing up to his full height. "Shortly after Miss Campbell had been escorted here, I sent two more of my men back to your home at Baker Street. I ordered them to wait outside your home, well hidden of course, until you had gone, before snatching her up and bringing her here."

"Why you disgusting, slimy, contemptible -" I began.

"Now, now, Miss Campbell," said Ratigan, waving his index finger. "There's no call for such petty insults right now. Certainly not now while I've still got some explaining to do."

Angry though I was with the professor so far, it was true I was still eager to know more, even though I just knew that I wouldn't like whatever he had left to say. So reluctantly, I decided to to shut up for now and listen to the rest of the filthy rat's explanation.

"You see, Basil," Ratigan continued. "After the spell books had been stolen from Miss Harrison's library and brought back to me, I took the opportunity at trying out some of the spells, seeing what ones I could use to finish you off once and for all. As I experimented, I almost went mad with ecstasy, knowing that once I had mastered the art of black magic, no one, not even _you_, could stand in my way. However," he added, turning back to me. "That was, of course, until I came across a certain spell which allowed me to see into other dimensions, time periods... even other universes."

I gasped quietly at that moment, as everything that had confused me for so long was now starting to become clearer and clearer.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Basil again.

Turning back to the detective, Ratigan's smirk grew wider. "You see, Basil, Miss Campbell _isn't _from this world. She was born in the year 1993, which means that she is really from the future, in which people in her day in age will wear clothing similar to this." As he said that last sentence, he motioned a hand towards me, gesturing to the clothes I was now wearing. "But that isn't all. She isn't really a mouse either. She is in fact a human. But that's not the most intriguing part of all. That goes to the fact that in her world, our world is merely a film, which is sort of like a moving picture if you will. A future invention, you see. This film is called _The Great Mouse Detective_. Rather fascinating is your client's background, wouldn't you agree, Basil?"

After Ratigan had finished, there was a short silence before Basil, still keeping his glare fixed upon his rival, finally scowled, "You're lying. How could you possibly expect us to believe such a preposterous concept? There are no such things as other universes!"

"Says the mouse who has just witnessed another mouse's clothing being changed in a flash by magic," answered Ratigan. "Perhaps it would interest you, though, to take a look at this."

Ratigan waved his hand to reveal a huge glowing image behind him. Said image appeared to be moving. As I looked closely at it for a few moments, I quickly recognised images of myself, in my human form, in my room on my laptop,, talking with someone on my phone, playing some games at the arcade with my friends, and other such modern day activities.

"See how the girl in these images look unmistakably like a human counterpart of Miss Campbell here," said Ratigan slyly.

I then switched my gaze between Basil, Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson and saw them just staring up at the image, their eyes wide and their mouths agape with utter shock and surprise. I could just see in their eyes the realisation slowly sinking in. The realisation that I was indeed a human from another world. In a way, I sort of felt glad now that Basil finally knew the full truth about my life, and that it wasn't coming from me.

Looking back at the image, I was surprised to see then that it had changed to a scene which I immediately recognised as the night my sister and I went to see Evanescence when they came to Glasgow. For a moment, the scene lingered on Amy dancing around on the stage, singing her heart out into the microphone with such passion and emotion with the rest of the band playing their instruments behind her with equal enthusiasm.

"Take a good look at those performers, Basil," said Ratigan, pointing at the band before adding, pointing to my t-shirt, "And then look at the humans on Miss Campbell's blouse."

I then turned back to Basil and Dr. Dawson, and saw them just staring at my t-shirt with the same wide-eyed shock as before. Then, as we all looked back towards the image, it now showed my sister and I in amongst the crowd in the pit, quite near the stage, our mouths moving as if singing along to the songs that were being performed as we jumped up and down with excitement.

"Now, listen," said Ratigan as the sound of their music seemed to be coming from the image now, the image which now showed Amy sitting at a piano, singing into the microphone that was on a stand perched in front of her. First, I recognised one song she was singing as "Lost in Paradise", the song I had sung for Basil and his friends back at Baker Street. As she sung, the image cut from Amy at the piano to myself waving my arms up in the air as I sang along, tears streaming down my widely smiling face.

"Recognise that song, Basil?" asked Ratigan. "I believe Miss Campbell sang this one for you in your sitting room sometime last week?"

Just then, the song changed to "My Heart is Broken", the one I had just been forced to to perform at the Rat Trap. Amy was still at the piano, but the rest of the band were playing behind her as well.

"And this one too?" Ratigan asked again. "She sang this one at the Rat Trap not half an hour ago."

For the next few minutes, Ratigan just played clips of some of the other songs before he waved his hand, causing the image to vanish and the music to stop, plunging us all into a deafening silence, which only lasted for about a few seconds before Ratigan said, "Metal music, my dear Basil. That is the sort of music some of the people in the 21st Century will enjoy. That is the sort of music Miss Campbell enjoys. Still willing to disbelieve me? I believe it was Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself who once said, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'. I do not believe that truer words could ever be said. Wouldn't you agree, Basil?"

I looked back at Basil, who only stared down at the floor, the look of utter shock having remained on his face all that time, before he looked towards me and asked, "Iona... is all of this really true?"

I hesitated for a second, my throat having become dry and my heart pounding in my chest so hard I could now _hear _it, before walking up to him, taking his hands into mine and answering, "Basil... I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you all along. Honestly, I did. I just..." I trailed off, not really knowing how to explain myself. Then, I looked back up at Ratigan, who was still sneering. "But this _still _doesn't explain everything!" I said to him. Now summoning up more courage, I took a few steps forward and continued, "Yeah, it doesn't take the mind of Sherlock Holmes, or Basil for that matter, to know now that it was _you _who brought me here! But for what purpose is what I want to know now."

Ratigan just chuckled yet again. "My, what a smart young lady we have here. But yes, it's true that it was me that brought you here, to this world. I suppose you remember that little detail I made about experimenting with these new spells I was learning and found one which allowed me to see into other time periods and universes? Well, as I was testing these spells out, I was able to get glimpses of various moments through time since this period, some memorable, some not so memorable. Great achievements for famous people and countries, tragic disasters, two "World Wars", even events that will change mankind as we know it. Same applies to mousekind of course. But the most interesting of all to me was this poignant little scene, taking place in a normal family home in the year 2012, of a lonely young woman, pining to one day find the love of her life. Suddenly, out of her bedroom window, she spots a particularly bright star in the pitch black sky above, outshining all the others around it. Clutching the copy of her favourite film, _The Great Mouse Detective_ to her heart, she closes her eyes and makes a wish on the star, that her prince will soon come to her and whisk her away on a white horse to a world of love and happiness. Once her wish has been made, she lays down on her bed and proceeds to watch the film on the screen at the front of the strange, mechanical box on her chest of drawers. That is the moment when I decided to make my move. You see, I had not yet formed a plan to rid of Basil once and for all at that point. However, since Miss Campbell appeared to be a big fan of this film which portrayed the events leading up to my defeat, I just became so intrigued with her. So I thought after I had succeeded in my plan to annihilate Basil for good and to begin my reign as supreme ruler of all Mousedom, that maybe I could help fulfil this wish of Miss Campbell's by making her my queen."

Well, I was just so shocked and offended at hearing this, that I could only react at first by staring straight at the filthy rat, my eyes wide and my jaw almost dropping to the floor. "So is that all I am to you then?" I asked angrily. "Some kind of prize to award yourself with once you had succeeded in your despicable plan!?"

"Well, only at first, my dear," Ratigan answered. "But kindly let me finish my explanation, if you don't mind. When you had started to watch this film of yours, I began to cast on you one of the spells I had already mastered from my books, putting you to sleep, allowing me to cast a couple of more spells. These spells allowed me to transport you here to our world and to transform you into a mouse, which would've been much more convenient if we were to rule Mousedom together than if you were still a human. However, while I was bringing your unconscious form here, transforming you as I did so, I took the opportunity to use another spell which allowed me to see into your mind. Yes, Miss Campbell, I looked into your mind and saw everything in it, along with everything you hold in your heart; your thoughts, your memories, your hopes, your dreams, even your fears. It was through all of these that I learned some very interesting things about you, which made me want you for my queen all the more."

Just then, as the meaning of that last sentence finally sunk in, I felt my stomach begin to turn over and I fought to suppress the feeling of needing to be sick. This slimy old rat, almost old enough to be my grandfather, had developed feelings of lust for me. So he brought me to this world for the very purpose of doing with me what he pleased and even went as far as entering into my mind, the most private place to _anyone_! So he now knew everything about me, including the things which were extremely personal to me and which I would only share with those I trusted most. I so wanted to voice my disgust to him at that moment, though I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't done.

"After I had placed you in that alleyway, I sent Monty, a new feline steed I had gotten myself after my poor, dear Felicia met her end in the kennels at Buckingham Palace, to go and escort you back to my lair. Though the only things I didn't count on was your ability to escape, fight back and end up at Baker Street, where you would meet Basil, Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson. Those were not part of my original plan, however as I watched the detective take you around on that little tour around London, I saw how the sparks between you were beginning to fly. Yes, my dear. Ever since bringing you here, I watched your every move, and as I did, I began to realise that you would be very useful indeed in helping me to destroy Basil once and for all, especially after it became apparent that you two had fallen in love with one another. So at last, I had come up with the perfect plan to do so and wasted no time in carrying it out. So, not only was it my men who stole those books from Miss Harrison's library, it was them who broke into 221B Baker Street and stole one of Basil's coats. It was them who sent Basil that false telegram, informing him that Miss Harrison had been murdered in her own library. It was them who threw that letter, my letter, through the kitchen window for you to receive. It was them who kidnapped you and brought you back to my lair when I needed you to help me carry out the final steps of my plan. And what were those final steps? Why, to use you as bait to lure Basil here so that I could finish him off at long last. That was why I lied to you about my men having murdered Basil whilst he was trying to rescue you. If I had told you the truth, you would not have co-operated with me at all and remained confident that he would indeed come to your aid, which would really have hindered my plan greatly. So I told you that little white lie, in order to crush any hopes you had of freedom, which would then allow me to have complete control over you, making my task all the easier. I knew that stealing one of Basil's coats, piercing a couple of holes into it and staining it with the blood the last member of my gang to upset me by daring to call me a rat to make it more convincing. Of course, I knew that it would only be natural for you to respond to such news in a fit of hysterical weeping, so I ordered some of my men to escort you to a room I had prepared especially for you. There, they would leave you alone for a little bit to calm down so that you would be in a better state to receive the news that I would be making you a member of my gang as well as to receive your first order from me. Knowing all about your interests, including your passion for music and singing, I thought it appropriate to use you to lure Basil back to my lair by making you sing for the customers at the Rat Trap. But you wouldn't be singing just any old song. No, I thought it best for you to perform a song you had already known from your own era. The sheet music I had provided you with? I played a moment in your memory of that singer you admire so much performing that very song on stage and got one of my more musically talented men to listen closely to it and to copy the whole thing down onto the music sheets, note by note. Not just the vocal notes, mind you, but the instrumental ones as well. So there you have it. Now I have answered your questions and told you all that you wished to know. Is there anything else any of you would like me to say on the matter, or would you rather just make any attempts to arrest me now? Well, by all means try, but I guarantee you that it will only end tragically for you all if you dare."

"You're an even more despicable, disgusting monster than I first thought!" shouted Basil furiously. "All the other crimes you committed were bad enough! The Big Ben Caper, the Tower Bridge Job, the drowning of all those widows and orphans, even your attempt to overthrow our Queen on the night of her Diamond Jubilee, altogether were all enough to earn you the title of the World's Greatest Criminal Mind. But taking a young lady away from her home and her family, using her as a device to carry out your wicked plot and then to force her against her will to marry you and become your Queen when you started your reign of tyranny!? A mere life sentence would not be a suitable enough punishment for such a heinous crime! Once you have been tried and found guilty at the Central Criminal Court, I'll see to it that you are taken to the gallows!"

Ratigan just chuckled again. "Well, well, well. Basil of Baker Street, the Sherlock Holmes of the rodent world, the cold and calculating mouse who cares only for solving crimes and putting criminals to justice, who usually only thinks with his brain, is now thinking with is heart this time. Mind you, it isn't the first time you've done that. That's been... oh, I don't know... ten years since then? After the unfortunate and untimely death of Mlle. Relda?"

"Yes, Ratigan," answered Basil through gritted teeth. "It was because of the fact that you murdered Relda that I hunted you down for years, determined to put you behind bars where you belong. And now that you have caused Iona so much pain and suffering, don't be surprised that that determination has not been rekindled."

Yet another sinister chuckle came from the professor in response. "Well, not to worry about that, Basil," she said. "When I'm through with you, I'll be sure to make up for all of that when she and I are both on the thrones at Buckingham Palace."

With each passing minute, during this dreadful moment, my disgust slowly grew stronger and stronger within me, finally reaching its peak when Ratigan spoke that last sentence. Without thinking, I stepped forward and said angrily to him, "How dare you!? Taking my life and my future away from me just to make me some object for you to use for your own selfish pleasures!?"

"Oh, my dear Iona," Ratigan answered, sounding as though he pretended he was hurt by my comment. "Don't be ridiculo -"

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped abruptly, cutting him off. "Having watched the film with you guys more times than I care to mention, I know _exactly _how heartless a villain you are! How much of a monster you are! I know for a fact that once you had become the king of Mousedom and made me your queen, that still wouldn't change much. Certainly not the way you would treat me. It would just remain the same as you have been treating me so far. You would still treat me atrociously, as if I was your slave or something! Well, guess what, Ratigan, that is _not _gonna happen! You've already taken me away from my family and my friends, that alone is unbearable enough. But you will _not _take me away from Basil again! In fact, I'd rather die right here, right now with him than rule the British Mouse Empire alongside a corrupt, vicious, demented, lowlife, foul _stenchus rodentus_, commonly known as a..."

"No, Iona!" I heard Basil cry fearfully behind me. "Don't say it!"

"...SEWER RAT!"


End file.
